


Carry You Over To A New Morning

by snowywintertales



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alternate Universe - Age Changes, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Magic, Complete, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-04
Updated: 2016-12-11
Packaged: 2018-07-29 09:17:57
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 19
Words: 48,958
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7678867
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/snowywintertales/pseuds/snowywintertales
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>AU. Healer Remus Lupin suspects that something is afoot with little Sirius Black. R/S.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I found this on my external hard-drive a couple of days ago. I'd started it in 2005 (!!), but never finished writing it past the first couple of pages. I thought it'd be sad to leave it like that, undone.
> 
> I've not written anything besides this initial first chapter, but I hope to update it often!

The room was unnecessarily bright, Mrs Black felt. She pursed her lips together tightly and uncrossed her legs, pressing them softly against the floor. Next to her, all of Regulus’s four-year-old body was pretending not to be in the room. He’d been doing rather a lot of that lately. She’d have a word with him as soon as they were done here.

Finally, the door opened and she stood up, righting her back. It made her look taller than she actually was. The Healer in the doorway didn’t seem to notice her, however; he was looking down at the parchment that had appeared in front of him the moment he stepped into the room.

Mrs Black waited patiently until he was done. Healer Wilkes had been tending to their family for years; he’d been handpicked by Orion. She liked him well enough, as long as he did his job. The parchment moved away to reveal not Wilkes, but an entire different person.

‘And who,’ Mrs Black asked, her voice just on the edge of polite, ‘might you be?’

The Healer smiled and entered the room, his robes swirling around him. The purple, squiggly writing on his chest revealed his name; and the fact that he had a much lower position in the hospital than Wilkes. He also looked extremely young. He couldn’t possibly be more than eighteen.

‘I’m Remus Lupin, Mrs Black,’ the Healer said kindly, stepping forward and nodding to her politely. The parchment followed him as he made his way towards the bed.

 _Pureblood_ , Mrs Black thought. _At least that._

‘It says here you fell off the stairs?’

He addressed the question not to her, Mrs Black realised with a sickening jolt, but to her eldest son, Sirius, who had been the reason they were in this blasted hospital in the first place. This Healer had _spoken directly to her son without being asked_. How indecent. Sirius looked utterly bewildered.

Her nostrils flared. ‘Pardon me,’ she said icily, gliding over to the bed and glaring at the second assistant-Healer. She put her hand on Sirius’s. ‘We shall wait until Healer Wilkes has returned. You may leave.’

‘That’s such a cool scar,’ Sirius blurted out in admiration, gesturing at the scar on Lupin’s cheek, which featured a jagged line shaped a bit like glass.

Lupin grinned. Walburga tightened her grip on Sirius’s hand, and he fell quiet.

‘I think you’ll find most of the staff indisposed at the moment, Mrs Black,’ Lupin told her. ‘There was a large explosion in the middle of Diagon Alley and all non-lethal cases have been re-assigned.’

‘I wouldn’t much care even if the whole hospital had been filled with people. We pay a first rate price to _receive_ first rate care, here,’ she said, her jaw clenched. ‘My son needs looking at, and he needs looking at _now_.’

‘I am looking at him now, Madam,’ Lupin said calmly. ‘From what I’ve heard, a Head Healer might not be available for another three hours. In this time you would, of course, risk permanent damage to your son’s spine, often resulting in deformities.’ Sirius’s hand twitched underneath hers, and she tightened her grip. ‘But if you would rather wait until Healer Wilkes is available, I will take my leave.’

He bowed once, as the Healers always did to private, out-care patients, and started to make his way out of the room.

Mrs Black heaved a great sigh of impatience and said, though it pained her to do so, ‘All right, you may proceed.’

Lupin turned around and gave her a polite smile. She felt a tug at her robes and she looked down.

‘I would like something to eat, please, Mother,’ Regulus said, rushed and practised.

‘Yes, me too,’ Sirius said, looking relieved. _Too_ relieved. Her eyes narrowed and she realised the tinkle she’d heard just now had been the sound of galleons being pushed into Regulus’s hands. Sirius had paid his little brother to bully her into getting him some food. If she hadn’t been annoyed at this Lupin boy, she might’ve been proud of his Slytherin manner of thinking.

‘We shall wait until your brother is done,’ she told Regulus.

‘No, I’m hungry _now_ ,’ Regulus insisted, and there was a stubborn note to his voice Walburga most certainly didn’t like.

‘Regulus, go sit back down,’ she said, and her tone made it clear there wasn’t any room for discussion.

‘No,’ Regulus said angrily. There was a crackle of magic in the air and before she could open her mouth, all the lamps in the room were shattering, including the one on the nightstand next to Sirius’s bed. Sirius ducked out of the way, and the sound of glass bouncing off a magical barrier was heard. When the thick cloud of smoke cleared, Mrs Black realised it had been because second assistant-Healer Lupin had warded the room a split-second before Regulus's magic had exploded out of him.

Regulus was shaking, his little frame drawing in shuddering breaths, his cheeks a dark red. The lamps in the room, as if attached to an invisible cord, slowly started piecing themselves together again with a wave of Lupin’s wand.

‘You better take him to get something to eat in the Tearoom,’ Lupin told her. ‘That’s an awful lot of focused magic for such a young child. It’s likely your son will faint in the next few minutes from the strain.’

‘Fine,’ she said, tugging Regulus up and into her arms. He buried his nose into her neck. ‘When I get back, I expect everything to be in perfect order.’ And then she was out of the room, slamming the door behind her.

Remus Lupin let out a low whistle.

‘She's a right piece of work,’ he said under his breath, lifting the protection spell around Sirius’s bed with a wave of his hand and moving to stand by him.

‘Er,’ was Sirius’s response.

Lupin only smiled at him. ‘You fell off the stairs?’ he asked again, and Sirius nodded. ‘Sirius, was it? Six, are you?’

Sirius nodded again, grinning toothily.

‘All right, Sirius. Where does it hurt?’

‘My back,’ Sirius listed, quickly, as if he’d learned it by heart, ‘my toes, my chest and my arm and – and my stomach.’

‘Your stomach hurts?’ Lupin repeated, looking very amused, as he leaned forward to examine Sirius’s shoulder.

‘Yes,’ Sirius responded, as if this was perfectly logical. ‘It’s hungry.’

‘I see,’ Lupin smiled, pulling back. He dug into his robes and produced a bar of Honeyduke’s Finest ( _chocolate that makes you wish for more!_ ). Sirius’s eyes widened and his mouth fell open a little.

‘Tell you what. I’ll let you have this,’ Lupin went on to say, ‘but only if you lie perfectly still while I heal you.’

Sirius nodded eagerly and scrambled up to the bed as best as he could. True to form, he was as still as a statue; he didn’t even so much as _flinch_ when Remus healed the fractured bone in his right foot after some careful prodding to locate the specific bone that had broken. Remus got the vaguely uncomfortable idea this boy had been told not to move far too many times.

When he was done, he handed Sirius the chocolate bar. Sirius was halfway through the second row of honey-and-caramel chocolate when Mrs Black and Regulus returned. Remus, meanwhile, had been noting down the injuries on the parchment, which was still hovering in mid-air. Mrs Black went to stand beside him, Regulus appearing next to her, absurdly quiet as he finished the scone in his hands. Remus couldn’t even hear him chew.

‘Sirius will need lots of bed rest in the next week,’ Lupin told her. ‘He’s had a nasty fall.’

Mrs Black, however, ignored him completely and was looking at Sirius. ‘Sirius, what is that you’re eating? Hand it over,’ she said shortly.

Sirius looked mighty disappointed and almost defiant as he finished chewing.

‘I won't ask again, Sirius,’ Mrs Black said, her voice carrying a nasty tone of warning that made Remus think unlikely thoughts, like she’d been the reason Sirius fell off the stairs in the first place. However, Sirius handed her the chocolate bar without protest, though his eyes were filled with resignation.

‘A word, Mr Lupin,’ she said, rounding on Remus. Remus gave a cheerful little wave to Sirius, who grinned back, and ruffled Regulus's hair. Regulus looked affronted and was still smoothing out his hair when the door fell shut behind Remus.

‘What is this?’ Mrs Black demanded, brandishing the chocolate at him. ‘Since when is it your job to _feed_ your patients, Mr Lupin?’

‘It’s not regular chocolate, Mrs Black,’ Remus explained patiently. ‘It’s laced with a numbing potion. As your son’s spine was fractured in three places and he had the misfortune of suffering a broken foot to boot, I would strongly suggest you give it back to him.’

Mrs Black’s face was dangerously blank. For a moment, Remus thought she might hit him. She didn't, in the end, but she still looked sour as she thanked him for his attention. Giving the chocolate back to him, she informed him that she was going to arrange their journey home.

When she had rounded the corner, Remus went back into the room.

Regulus had fallen asleep on one of the chairs, but Sirius looked up, his eyes half-lidded with pain.

‘Catch,’ Remus said, and Sirius stretched out his hand with some effort. He caught the chocolate, however, and Remus smiled.

‘Be sure to finish it all.’

‘Wragsk,’ Sirius responded, around a mouthful, the pain in his eyes fading again.

‘And promise I won’t see you here again,’ Remus said.

Sirius nodded, smiling up at him.

* * *

Of course, it was hardly a promise the boy could keep, being only six. When Head Healer Wilkes retired, Remus was not only awarded higher rank, but was also given some of Wilkes' patients. Still, he was surprised when the first patient he was scheduled to see after his promotion turned out to be Sirius Black.

Sirius had grown since Remus had last seen him. He was about nine now, maybe ten. When Remus saw Sirius sitting on the bed, he got an unfortunate feeling in his stomach.

‘Let’s see here,’ he said, glancing down at the parchment. Regulus wasn’t here this time, but Mrs Black was, drumming her fingers impatiently on her lap. She looked too busy to be here, and interrupted what Remus was about to say next with a demand to use the nearest Floo connection.

‘The next room over has a Floo connection, but I'm not sure –’ Remus started, but before he could finish his sentence, Mrs Black had gone.

‘Let’s have a look, then,’ Remus said, nearing the bed. Sirius looked up at him and Remus had to remind himself forcefully not to wince.

Sirius looked awful. He was cradling his left arm in his hand, his face was swollen. One of his eyes was black and his lip – Merlin, his lip was split. Actually _split_ , not _cut_. Remus felt a surge of protective anger well in his stomach as he sat on the bed and asked his wand to scan Sirius’s body for injuries.

‘I'm sorry,’ Sirius lisped, his lip bleeding profusely onto his robes, and Remus was startled out of his thoughts, looking down at him.

‘What for?’

‘I promised never to come back, didn't I?’ Sirius said. He sounded sad and disappointed in himself. ‘Father said it’s vulgar to not live up to a promise when you’re a Black.’

‘Well,’ said Remus, because he wasn’t really sure what to say to that. He healed Sirius’s injuries carefully, taking his time, his wand dragging softly over any patches of skin that the diagnostic spell had lit up a faint, comforting blue.

When Remus finished healing the boy’s arm, Sirius flexed his fingers with a soft hiss. The damage to his hand had been older, nastier. It was almost like magic had seeped into his bones and had snapped them from the inside out. Someone had magically restored them, but oddly, wonkily, without too much care. It was almost deliberate.

‘Do they work?’ Remus asked, trying not to dwell too much on the implications of what that meant.

‘Yes,’ Sirius said, softly. ‘Rotten luck, though. Means I’ll have to start practising the piano again.’

Remus smiled. ‘You might want to hold off on that for a little bit. It’ll take a while for your hand to start working like it should again.’

Sirius grinned at him.

‘Sirius,’ Remus said softly, all of his Ravenclaw sensibility _screaming_ at him not to, ‘are you all right?’

Sirius looked startled, glancing up at him with innocent, round eyes. ‘Yes,’ he said eventually, carefully practised. ‘Yes, I’m fine.’

‘Have you quite finished?’ Mrs Black asked, storming into the room with a distinct graceful air around her. ‘We’ve got another appointment.’

‘Yes, I’m sorry, Mrs Black,’ Remus said, standing up and bowing politely. ‘Please make sure that Sirius doesn’t use his right hand –’

Mrs Black didn’t appear to hear him at all, thanking him for his time and dragging Sirius out of the room by his injured hand. Sirius didn’t even wince, but he did focus his unsettelingly bright grey eyes on Remus before the door fell shut behind them.

Remus closed his eyes. That was just the problem. As long as Sirius said he was fine, he couldn't _do_ anything.


	2. Chapter 2

A year passed by in a flurry of faces and patients. Remus loved being a Healer; he loved how varied it was, how much it challenged him intellectually, making him think about how to fix people from the inside out. It was also hard, and heart-breaking, sometimes.

After a forty-eight hour shift, he’d fallen asleep at his desk, his half-finished toast unpleasantly soaking his fingers. He awoke to the feeling of his wand, which vibrated on his desk, and announced, in a clear voice, ‘Presence of first assistant-Healer Lupin required on Fourth Floor, Spell Damage.’

‘Noted,’ he told the wand groggily, which glowed to indicate his confirmation, and stopped vibrating. He blinked blearily, getting up out of his chair and straightening his research half-heartedly, the wand pattern of the new Healing Charm he had been working on for weeks now no closer to being finished than it had been when he started. He quickly splashed his face with cold water and was out the door not a second later, shaking his face to rid it of the excess water. He could’ve dried his face magically, but sometimes, he couldn’t really be fussed.

He calmly made his way down the corridor of the research room and took the set of stairs to the right, which led to the fourth floor. His wand easily lit up when he passed the correct room and he entered it, fully awake, if a bit tired.

‘Poppy!’ he exclaimed, in shock, spotting her standing in the room.

The Hogwarts matron offered him a small smile. ‘Remus,’ she said, ‘good to see you.’

He returned her smile and focused his attention on the magical parchment that appeared out of thin-air. _First year Hogwarts student_ , it said in the receptionist’s neat handwriting. _Spell damage._ Remus kept his face blank, but his mind was racing. It was quite unusual for Madam Pomfrey to send students to him, especially since she was such a gifted Healer herself. The only reason she would, Remus concluded, was if she didn’t know what kind of spell had been used or could find no cure for it. Which meant it was likely Dark magic – something she, for all her Muggleborn-brilliance, knew very little about.

Remus looked up from the parchment and Poppy stepped aside, revealing the two boys sitting on the hospital bed. They’d taken no notice of him, being involved in rapid conversation. Remus vaguely recognised the bespectacled boy as James Potter, having seen him at some party before. The other boy grinned slowly and then looked up at Remus.

Sirius. It was Sirius. And he was wearing a standard, grey woollen Hogwarts jumper, a bright gold-and-red Gryffindor tie tucked neatly in the collar. He seemed, at first glance, to be completely uninjured. Remus realised, however, that the conversation had been mostly one-sided, stemming from Potter.

‘Hello, Mr Black,’ he said, because the boy was eleven-years-old now, which meant the politeness rules for out-care patients officially kicked in. ‘What appears to be the problem?’

Sirius seemed surprised to see him, too, and looked at James Potter, who glanced up at him, earlier happiness replaced by a stern seriousness Remus recognised from his father, who worked as a potioneer.

‘He was hexed,’ Potter said, annoyed, his fist clenched, all eleven-year-old Gryffindor rage. ‘Couldn’t see what it was, and Sirius had his back turned too.’

Remus glanced at Poppy, who subtly inclined her head towards the corridor. Remus smiled at the two boys and stepped out.

‘There was a duel. He was hit with something and I don’t know how to stop it,’ she whispered urgently, once the door shut behind them. ‘It’s some sort of _horrible_ Curse that affects his heartbeat. It speeds up, slows down –’ her voice rose on the last note, a slight panic to it. ‘– it almost stopped completely, once. Nothing I do counters it.’

Remus nodded at her and the two of them re-entered the room. Sirius was lying back on the bed, his breathing shallow. Potter was sat on his left side, looking down at him imploringly, as if he could fix him by merely staring at him.

‘Mr Potter,’ said Remus. ‘If I may?’

Potter slid off the bed with practised ease and Remus sat by Sirius. He ordered his wand to start with the diagnostic spells, which it did calmly, hovering over Sirius.

‘Mr Potter,’ said Poppy, ‘let’s get Mr Black something to eat.’

‘I want to stay,’ Potter said loyally, and Remus smiled at him. Sirius had closed his eyes, his breathing starting to even out, as if he was simply going to sleep. Remus realised that he better do something, _fast_.

‘I’m sorry, but you will need to leave, Mr Potter,’ Remus said kindly, but firm.

Potter sulked all the way to the door, hands thrust into his pockets, glancing back to the bed as he followed Poppy out of the room, the door closing softly behind them. Remus immediately turned his attention back to Sirius. His wand, having finished its diagnostics, indicated nothing was out of the ordinary, and fell limply into his waiting hand. He did some hasty spell work, casting a charm to monitor the pressure of Sirius’s heartbeat and a protective spell as to keep his heart from stopping. The magic filled the room around him, the walls pulsing softly, very slowly, filling itself with blue light with each beat of Sirius’s heart.

Remus, meanwhile, was leaning over Sirius. The symptoms he was experiencing sounded familiar, and when he closed his eyes, Remus could remember seeing them neatly outlined in _Moste Darke Magick_ , one of the books he’d pilfered from his grandfather’s collection. It was deep, Dark magic, which had to have come from one of the older students. There was no way a fellow first-year would have the power to cast this Curse.

Sirius’s body started panicking as his heartrate sped up, the walls of the room pulsing wildly, erratic beats of blue lighting up the room. Sirius’s hand clenched, tightly, in the sheets.

Meanwhile, Remus was focusing on Sirius’s face, trying to recall what had been written in the book. The page, he remembered, had started with an illustration of the three phases of the spell, the strings of the heart coated in a kind of black tar, which seeped slowly, ever so slowly, into the heart chambers, artfully smothering a person from within.

Sirius opened his mouth, and started babbling lethargically, his heartrate plummeting, the walls of the room pulsing red, signalling danger. Remus furrowed his brow, clenching his eyes shut. The words on the page appeared in his mind’s eye, golden letters flaring. _The Curse affects the brain as well as the heart, an often overlooked fact –_ his eyes flew open.

Remus pressed his wand to Sirius’s temple, muttering the counter-charm that pulsed out as brightly in front of his eyes as Sirius’s heartbeat. Then he moved his wand over Sirius’s heart in the pattern of the standard Heart-Healing Charm St Mungo’s used. The walls around him shimmered, reflecting this magic, and then pulsed softly, steadily, all around him. Remus let out a breath of relief and undid the spell on the walls.

All of a sudden, Sirius’s eyes flew open and he sat up, nearly knocking Remus off the bed.

‘Mr Black,’ he said, his hands comforting on Sirius’s shoulders. ‘Calm down, you’ve had quite a shock.’

‘Fuck,’ was all Sirius said, groaning and flopping back on the bed.

Remus blinked. This seemed extremely out of character for the quiet boy he’d come to know over the years.

The door opened unexpectedly and James Potter entered, face wary. Sirius glanced up at the interruption and with a roar of relief, Potter barrelled towards the bed, peering up at Sirius eagerly.

‘All right?’ Potter asked, in a casual tone that didn’t match his enthusiastic bouncing.

‘I’m fine, James, you big nancy,’ Sirius said, but he was grinning and there was no real malice behind the words.

‘If you hadn’t almost snuffed it, I’d be really upset at that,’ Potter said, socking him on the arm. Sirius snorted with laughter, a sound which was warm and unfamiliar and made Remus’s stomach jolt. At least Sirius had someone besides his horrible family, now.

Poppy had come in and was standing next to Remus, who was filling in the magical parchment. She was smiling at the boys, relief evident on her face. She extended the smile to Remus, who grinned at her.

‘All right, you two,’ she said then, in a stern voice Remus remembered from his Healer training, ‘back to Hogwarts. Thanks, Remus,’ she said, addressing him. He smiled back, bowing to her, then to the two boys.

‘Yeah, cheers,’ James said, hopping off the bed, all eleven-year-old nonchalance, and following Poppy out of the doors.

Sirius got up too, and if his movements were slow or slightly sluggish, he ignored it.

‘Yeah, thanks Remus,’ he said, winking at him and walking out of the door. Potter slung his arm around his shoulder and the two left, chatting animatedly.

Remus stared after him in shock.

* * *

The Wizarding Wireless was crooning Christmas songs, filling the Staff’s Tea Room with cheer. Remus was sat next to Marlene McKinnon, who was reciting a set of spells under her breath, eyes closed. Her knee pressed comfortingly against Remus’s under the table. On the other side of him, Alice Longbottom was telling him, in her thick Irish lilt, about a patient who had somehow managed to swallow part of a poisonous plant while travelling to Australia. Her hands were gesturing expressively.  

They were his best friends first, and his colleagues next.

Marlene had been in Ravenclaw with him, and Alice had been in Gryffindor. She’d sat next to them during their first Charms lesson, and they’d fallen into a comfortable friendship. Remus had always been interested in the way spells worked, in the way magic curled itself into patterns and riddles, which only made sense if you approached them in the right way. Marlene had wanted to become an Auror, at first, until her favourite uncle was killed by a Manticore. She’d changed course radically, taking up Care of Magical Creatures. Alice, on the other hand, had always wanted to do “something with plants”. After their NEWTs, all three of them had registered for Healer training at St Mungo’s without informing the others. They shared identical grins when they’d met each other on their first day.

He loved his work in Spell Damage; Marlene was part of the Creature-Induced Injuries department; and Alice worked in Potions and Plant Poisoning. They always met up for lunch, exchanging stories. Remus had been the best man at Alice’s wedding just two months ago. She was smiling at him now, evidently waiting for his reaction to the story she’d been telling. Remus realised with a jolt he’d missed most of it.

‘Sorry,’ he said, grinning apologetically.

‘Don’t worry,’ she told him softly, patting his arm. ‘Any plans for New Year’s?’

‘Not really,’ Remus confessed.

‘He means ‘not ever’,’ Marlene said teasingly, swiping a crisp from his plate. Remus swatted at her hand. 

‘You two should come to the party Frank and I are hosting, then,’ Alice said, looking fondly between them. ‘It’ll be quite the affair. We’re inviting loads of people.’

‘All right,’ Remus said. ‘Thanks.’

‘Ooh, ta! I’ll be there,’ Marlene said.

Alice opened her mouth to respond but it was at that moment Remus’s wand vibrated, announcing, ‘Presence of first assistant-Healer Lupin required on Fourth Floor, Spell Damage.’

‘Noted,’ Remus replied. Marlene and Alice waved cheerfully at him, falling into easy conversation about the party as he clambered out of his seat. He grabbed his half-finished sandwich and chewed on it thoughtfully as he made his way up the stairs, reaching the fourth floor in record time. It was busy. Spell Damage was always busiest at Christmas, family tensions rising high. Remus was never short of amusing anecdotes at parties.

His wand glowed when he reached the right room and he stepped in. The magical parchment appeared, bearing only one word: _Emergency_. He glanced up sharply, his stomach dropping at the sight.

Regulus Black was standing in the room, all nine-year-old panic, which was betrayed in his wide, terrified eyes. Sirius was leaning against him, looking unable to stand, blood staining his clothes. Regulus appeared grateful when Remus walked over and took Sirius from him, guiding him towards the bed.

‘I’m not supposed to be here,’ Regulus said quickly, and for the first time, Remus noticed a battered house-elf in the corner. It was watching the proceedings silently.

‘Kreacher, I forbid you to ever tell anyone about this,’ Regulus said, and the house-elf’s eyes widened, but he nodded, unable to resist such a direct order.

‘Fix him please,’ Regulus breathed to Remus, now, grabbing the house-elf’s hand. The elf was looking at Remus, his eyes narrowed.

‘Take us home, Kreacher,’ Regulus told it. With a sharp crack of house-elf magic, they were gone.

Remus looked over to Sirius, who was bleeding profusely from the mouth, waves of it soaking through the fabric of his brick-red Gryffindor jumper. There were burn marks surrounding his lips, his throat raw and red. He was looking at Remus without really seeing him; his grey eyes a cloudy grey.

‘Don’t –’ Sirius said, and Remus had to lean very close in order to hear him. ‘– tell – James,’ he finished, with a pleading note to his voice.

Remus opened his mouth to respond, but Sirius’s eyes rolled back in his head, his movements stilling.

 _Shit_ , thought Remus.

 


	3. Chapter 3

Remus had managed to stop Sirius’s bleeding quite quickly but, sadly, he hadn’t managed to stop the effects of whatever was affecting Sirius. He’d been here for hours; Remus had half-expected Mrs Black to appear shortly after his arrival, demanding to be told what was going on, but she wasn’t heard from at all.

Remus didn’t know which was worse.

Regulus had not returned, either. Remus suspected Sirius’s younger brother hadn’t been allowed to take Sirius to St Mungo’s, and wondered idly in what state he was going to find the boy next. Apart from the Silencing Charm his Mother had cast on him when they had returned from the Visitor’s Tea Room the very first time Remus had met the Blacks, however, he’d never had the type of injuries Sirius had had. And if he did, Remus had certainly never treated them.

Sirius’s breathing was faint, if it was there at all. The diagnostic spells he’d cast after Sirius had fainted indicated magical damage to so many different body parts, Remus didn’t even know where to start. And every time he fixed one of them, another worsened. He had been racking his brain for spells that might cause this sort of damage, but couldn’t think of anything, not even when he went over all five-hundred pages of _Moste Darke Magick_ in his mind. He’d come to the conclusion fairly shortly after that that whatever spell was affecting Sirius, it had been invented. And it was slowly killing him.

‘Wish you could tell me what’s wrong,’ he told Sirius, softly. ‘I’m trying, but it’s not looking too well.’

Sirius’s hand twitched, as if hearing him. Remus sighed, and covered the boy’s hand with his own, squeezing in what he hoped was a comforting way. He noticed, for the first time, that Sirius’s fist was clenched around something and he frowned, gently prying Sirius’s fingers apart.

Was that – _money_? Remus took the coins from Sirius’s hand, surprised, looking down at them. A silver Sickle clicked against his fingers cheerfully, but Remus was distracted by the Knut. Usually a blinking shade of bronze, this one was oddly discoloured, almost like – Remus’s head whipped up sharply.

‘Sulphur,’ he whispered in surprise. ‘ _Sulphur_ ,’ he said again, standing up, walking around the room in a bit of a panic. Copper reacted to sulphur in the body, discolouring the material. God – he wasn’t – he _needed_ Alice.

Alice responded immediately when he summoned her, appearing in the room in a flurry of robes. She made a soft noise of discontent upon spotting Sirius – who looked small and ill – and looked up at him with bright, blue eyes.

‘What?’

‘Sulphur,’ Remus babbled. ‘Sulphur poisoning, the coin, it was discoloured –’

Alice’s expression darkened and she made her way over to the bed. She traced her fingers softly over the burn marks surrounding Sirius’s mouth, which looked to be etched into his skin.

‘This can’t be sulphur,’ she told Remus. ‘It doesn’t burn –’

Remus glanced down at his hand. ‘– silver,’ he interrupted quickly, squeezing the Sickle. ‘Silver polish does. It can burn through the oesophagus, cause trouble breathing, result in damage to the stomach, cause burns –’

Alice looked like she was about to throw up.

Remus’s mind raced. Sirius had somehow been magically forced to ingest both sulphur and silver polish –

‘But wouldn't there be a lot more damage to his mouth if he'd ingested them?’ Remus said, thinking out loud.

Alice didn’t respond, her attention focused instead on Sirius’s Gryffindor jumper. She sniffed the fabric around his neck, at which Remus blinked, but then she looked up at him.

‘Soap,’ she said. ‘Someone washed out his mouth,’ she added, at Remus’s blank look.

Remus felt a dangerous swell of nauseous, all-consuming anger in his stomach. Someone had magically washed out Sirius’s mouth with _sulphur and silver-polish_ , and then had either forgotten to take off the Spell or had left it on, deliberately. And Sirius – Remus realised with a jolt, when he felt he cold metal of the coins press against his hand – had recognised the spell, had _known_ , and had told Remus in the only way possible.  

Remus made a disgusted noise in his throat and grabbed his wand. Together, he and Alice spent the better part of three hours undoing the damage to Sirius’s body.

* * *

Remus had other patients to take care of, but he checked on Sirius for the rest of the day like clockwork. Every time he saw Sirius’s chest rise and fall in a steady rhythm, he breathed a sigh of relief. There was no sign of Mrs Black, or any of the other family members, but Remus wasn’t expecting them to show up, really.

So when he popped into the room after his final shift for one last check on Sirius before he headed home, he was shocked to find Regulus sitting on a chair next to Sirius’s bed, Sirius’s hand clasped in his. The house-elf was sat, brooding, in the corner.

Remus opened his mouth.

‘It’s my fault,’ Regulus said, softly, not looking up at him, his eyes focused on Sirius’s sleeping form. 'He did it for me.'

Remus sucked in a breath. ‘What happened?’

Regulus looked at him, letting go of Sirius’s hand. ‘Is he all right?’ he asked. The boy’s concern and guilt were evident, but he didn’t look like he was going to answer Remus’s question.

‘For all intents and purposes,’ said Remus shortly, waving his hand. ‘The damage will take a while to heal. My guess is two, three days. It was quite severe.’

Regulus’s shoulders stiffened, but he gave no other indication that he’d heard Remus. ‘I’ve to take him home,’ he said, looking sleepy. Remus realised, all of a sudden, that it was two in the morning, and that Regulus was only nine.

‘I can’t –’ Remus said, but Regulus didn’t listen to him, ordering the house-elf to grab hold of Sirius’s hand, and grabbing onto the creature’s other hand.

‘Thank you for your care, first assistant-Healer Lupin,’ Regulus said.

Remus bowed automatically, then realised his mistake when, with a sharp crack, the three disappeared.

* * *

It took forty minutes of careful promises of drinks and dinner, but then the girl who was responsible for managing the patient files let him borrow the file labelled “Black, Sirius” for the night.

‘See you Tuesday, then. And I’ll need it back first thing tomorrow,’ she called after him, and Remus smiled what he hoped to be his most winning smile at her, promising to do just that.

Back upstairs, in his research room, he pushed aside his research materials and opened the file to the middle. It opened like a book, and Remus flipped all the way to the beginning. Healer Wilkes’ disembodied voice echoed up from the page.

‘ _Age two. Sirius Black admitted to hospital with both front teeth run through his top lip. Performed correct charms; no lasting damage. End of report_ ,’ the first entry read. 

It got progressively worse: ‘ _Age four. Sirius Black admitted to hospital with a broken shoulder after run in with tree. Performed correct charm; no lasting damage. End of report_.’

Wilkes never had anything to add, his voice finishing each report without any emotion. Even if Wilkes had suspected what Remus was now suspecting, he hadn’t noted it down. That man would always, always, look out for only himself.

‘ _Age five-and-a-half. Sirius Black admitted to hospital, having broken both hands and feet_. _Performed correct charms; no lasting damage. End of report_ ,’ Wilkes’s voice said.

‘Shut up,’ Remus said, snapping the file shut, feeling sick. He drew in a sharp breath, and then looked up at the ceiling. He’d just have to ask Sirius again next time he came in.

If he was still alive by then.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The spell is one I came across in my notes for another unfinished story, in which it was equally horrible, but all in all, I've found it to be better suited to this one.
> 
> The effects of each component of the spell are true in real-life up to a certain degree, but I did take some liberties.


	4. Chapter 4

As he’d promised, Remus returned the file first thing in the morning. The girl, Martha, greeted him, her eyes intensely blue. They decided on a date and time – he was going to pick her up from her flat, which she shared with four friends, and take her out to a restaurant near Diagon Alley – and then they said goodbye. She smiled beautifully at him when he left, guilt weighing heavily in his stomach.

Tuesday came around quicker than he would have liked, at the end of a seventy-two hour shift that had him bleary-eyed, a headache pounding quietly in the corner of his mind. He was never very good on very little sleep. But, he was cheered as he made his way down the stairs of St Mungo’s, his white Healer robes tucked neatly into the bag slung over his shoulder, because it was his first day off in a very long time, and he was looking forward to spending it at home.

He nodded to the receptionist, who nodded back, disinterested, as she turned her attention to the patient standing in front of her. He stepped effortlessly through the glass display and was shocked to be swallowed up by the crowd of people, which swelled thickly around him. Then he realised, a bit belatedly, that it was Boxing Day, which would explain the fact that the shops across from the hospital were open, Christmas displays twinkling cheerfully in the cold, winter air.

Remus hunched his shoulders, tucking his neck into the scarf his mother had given him for Christmas, and mindlessly made his way towards his flat, which was only a fifteen minute walk from the hospital. It was located above a flower shop. He had found it being advertised in a newspaper, and he had shared it with Marlene and Alice. The rent had been easy enough to manage between the three of them, but after Alice had gotten married and moved out, it had been a bit harder. Marlene and Remus had each needed to work more hours, which they signed up for in tacit agreement the moment Alice and Frank Longbottom – who was training to be an Auror at the Ministry – announced their engagement.

When Remus arrived home, the flat was quiet, which meant Marlene was out. He hung his bag up on the coat rack Alice had bought and glanced at his reflection in the mirror across it. He looked tired, weary, a slight stubble staining his cheeks. He scrubbed his face as he made his way into the living room, which Marlene had lovingly decorated in shades of bright blue (she’d insisted blue reminded her of Hogwarts, and Alice and Remus had shared a fond smile between them). The flat was arrogantly cold in winter, and when Remus shucked his shoes in front of the sofa, the floor beneath his feet was like ice. Ignoring this, Remus collapsed onto the sofa, his face hitting the comfortable pillows, which sagged under his weight.

He closed his eyes. He wanted a nap really, _really_ badly, but there was still so much work to do. For starters, he had to finish working on the Healing Charm he’d been trying to develop for many painstaking months now. His supervising Healer had told him it was a brilliant idea, but said it would be useless if he couldn’t find a way to work it out properly. Remus had bit back a biting retort, and had promised to try and finish it this week.

‘Hello!’ came Marlene’s cheery voice, from far away, and Remus opened his eyes slowly, sleepily.

Marlene’s smiling face drifted into view, and he blinked.

‘ _Shit_ ,’ he said, sitting up, groggy and alarmed, when he realised he’d fallen asleep. ‘What time is it?’

‘Five,’ Marlene said.

‘Morning? Evening?’ Remus said, standing up and muttering something very foul when his bare feet came in contact with the cold floor.

‘Evening,’ she responded, sounding amused. ‘Why?’

‘I’m supposed to meet Martha for dinner,’ Remus said, who had stormed into his room and was in the middle of changing into something more suitable.

‘Who?’ Marlene asked, following him into his room and sitting down on his bed, her knees tucked beneath her.

‘Martha,’ said Remus impatiently, grabbing a blue shirt out of his closet and slinging it on, doing up the buttons hastily.

‘I’ve no idea who that is,’ Marlene said.

‘She works down in Filing,’ Remus explained, popping into the bathroom – which was located directly across his room – and splashing his face with cold water. The shock of it against his skin woke him up fully, and he quickly brushed his teeth. Glancing at his reflection, he decided to shave, too; in his haste, he nearly nicked himself on the chin. When he was done, he sprayed on some cologne, which he always kept in the bathroom, and then made his way over to the sofa towards his shoes, wincing every time his feet hit the freezing floor.

Marlene followed him, wordlessly handing him his wallet.

He gave her a grateful smile. ‘Cheers.’

‘I still don’t know who she is, but have fun,’ she said, cheerfully, grinning at him.

He gave a small wave, then Disapparated.

* * *

Remus Apparated back into the flat around ten, feeling utterly exhausted. Marlene was sitting on the sofa, completely engrossed in a book, and looked up slowly, as if she was having difficulty leaving the pages. She looked tired. All around him, the flat smelled like apple crumble, and he spotted a half-finished piece on a plate that was balancing precariously on her right knee when he flopped down onto the sofa next to her.

‘Was it nice?’ she asked.

Remus shrugged. ‘It was all right.’

Marlene gave him a searching look.

‘We went to that new restaurant,’ Remus said, eventually, because he knew she’d badger him endlessly if he didn’t at least give her some sort of information. ‘I had salmon.’

‘That’s nice, then,’ Marlene said, sounding amused.

‘Yeah,’ said Remus noncommittally. He stood up, stretching lazily, and made his way into the bathroom, undressing as he went.

All in all, his first day off in ages hadn’t gone at all like he’d planned: he’d slept through most of it, and it had ended in a date that wasn’t really worth repeating. Martha had been only seventeen, full of stories of Hogwarts and her first real job at St Mungo’s, and he’d found it hard to concentrate on anything she was saying. After he’d paid, he walked her back to her flat, and she kissed him on the cheek, thanking him for a nice evening. After she’d closed the black-panelled door behind her, Remus had gone into a nearby deserted alley, and Disapparated.

Now, he emerged from the bathroom, freshly showered. His hair dripped onto the wooden floor and his arms were immediately covered in goose-bumps as he stepped out onto the cold floorboards. They’d come to accept the cold, as any Heating Charms cast on the floor faded ridiculously quickly, and weren’t worth the effort, in the end. Marlene had fallen back into her book, and took no notice of him crossing the room, kicking the clothes he’d been wearing that night out in front of him.

‘Night,’ he called, turning once he was in his room.

‘Night,’ Marlene echoed, absently.

Remus smiled at her, even if she couldn’t see, and closed the door behind him.

* * *

The day of Alice’s New Year’s Eve party, Remus woke with a start, the ceiling of his bedroom slowly coming into focus. He couldn’t remember what had woken him, the dream fading and blurry, tucking itself away at the edges of his mind. He dressed lazily, his stomach rumbling for breakfast. A glance at his wristwatch, which had been a Christmas gift from Alice and Marlene, told him it was only six o’clock. When he stepped out into the living room, the flat felt warm and cosy, lit up by the Christmas tree Marlene had set up by herself, the fairy lights twinkling and the silver and gold baubles reflecting their light.

Remus made his way into the kitchen, which was tiny, if you really thought about it, consisting of only a few cabinets, a sink, a plastic-y counter top, and a fussy old stove, which hiccupped out gas well-enough, but never the amount you needed. He made some toast, buttering it lazily, and then paid the owl that delivered the _Daily Prophet_ through the miniature kitchen window.

He was still engrossed in the newspaper, reading the Quidditch section, when Marlene appeared in the kitchen, yawning. Her black hair had been tied in what he presumed had been a braid, at some point, but it had come loose in the night, wisps of saggy curls framing her face.  

‘Morning,’ she called, putting the kettle on to boil.

‘Morning,’ he responded.

‘I’ve the day off today,’ she said, conversationally, and he glanced up, catching her eyes over the newspaper. ‘I’m going to help Al set up for the party. She’s expecting loads of people.’

‘How many, you think?’

‘Oh, you know,’ Marlene said lightly, pouring hot water into a mug for tea and sliding into a seat across from him when she was done. ‘Two hundred or so.’

Remus stared. ‘Two _hundred_?’

She grinned at him, obviously joking. ‘Maybe even three.’

‘Shut up,’ said Remus, returning to his newspaper.

‘What time will you be there?’ she asked.

‘My shift finishes at nine, which is when the party starts, so I’ll change here quickly and stop by then,’ he said, turning the page, and she hummed in response, sipping her tea.

‘All right,’ she said, and then reached for the book which had been lying underneath the post on the table (Marlene always kept half-read books in the most unlikely of places), burying her nose in it.

They spent the rest of the morning in companionable silence.

* * *

When Remus Apparated home at around half twelve, he was in a foul mood. As was almost tradition, the day had been filled with patients who had – drunkenly, mistakenly, or both – set off magical fireworks early, and in the wrong way. Remus had restored eyebrows, set arms, regrown ribs and, in one memorable case, removed a half-exploded piece of firework from the inside of someone’s – well. And now he was late, and dirty, and tired. He shucked his Healer robes in the middle of the living room and stormed into the bathroom for a quick shower.

Twenty minutes later, he found himself in the garden of Alice’s house, having Apparated directly from the flat. His hair fell into his eyes and he brushed it out of the way impatiently, making his way over to the front door, which stood open invitingly.

‘Hello?’ he called. He stepped through the door and could just make out a banister painstakingly wrapped with holly, before he was enveloped in a tight hug, the faint scent of daffodils surrounding him. He smiled into Alice’s hair, wrapping his arm around her waist.

‘Hi Al,’ he said, squeezing softly, and she drew back, looking at him with wide, worried eyes.

‘Shift ran late,’ he said, by means of explanation, ‘And then Ruaraidh cornered me, wanting to discuss some of the new spells the Ministry were recommending for our use.’

Alice nodded sympathetically. Ruaraidh Kinnaird was the Head Healer of Remus’s department, an elderly, bespectacled man who often engaged people in long, winding conversations about the Ministry’s guidelines for St Mungo’s. He was getting on a bit, and often didn’t remember he was the one who suggested most of the guidelines to the Ministry in the first place.

Remus held up two bottles of wine, and Alice grinned.

‘You’re a star,’ she said, linking her arms with his, and shutting the door behind him. She led him into the formal dining room, which was filled to the brim. Remus guessed there must be at least thirty people there. A far cry from three hundred, but he was relieved. He’d never been the best at parties.

‘Found him!’ Alice announced to the room, and most occupants turned to look at him curiously. ‘Everyone, this is Remus.’

Remus recognised most everyone there, and exchanged polite greetings and nods. Marlene appeared at Alice’s side, grinning and carrying a tray of speared, grilled sausages, which she offered up to him. He tucked into one gratefully, Alice leading him around the room to formally introduce him to everyone. The room smelled like food, and a fire was burning cheerily in the fireplace, lighting up the room. The Christmas tree in the corner appeared to have been magically carried over from the living room, if the unexpected smattering of pine needles around the skirt was anything to go by.

‘And these are the Potters,’ Alice said, leading him to stand in front of a man with messy, greying black hair and a beautiful blonde woman. ‘Remus is a first-assistant Healer. He works at St Mungo’s with me.’

Remus smiled at the Potters, holding out his hand. ‘How do you do,’ he said.

‘Lupin, nice to see you again,’ Fleamont Potter said cheerfully, shaking his hand with vigour. Remus returned the sentiment, and then shook his wife's hand.

‘And this is our son, James,’ Euphemia Potter offered, stepping aside to reveal James Potter, who had been sitting on the stone edge of the fireplace, and was looking up at Remus in surprise. He pulled himself up to his feet nonetheless, and shook Remus’s proffered hand.

‘First assistant-Healer Lupin,’ he said formally, a far cry from the last time Remus had met him. His eyes twinkled mischievously.

‘And my son brought a friend,’ Fleamont said, and Remus somehow knew it was going to happen before it did. The man stepped aside, revealing a boy with wide, panicked grey eyes, who was looking up at Remus.

‘This is Sirius Black. Perhaps you’ve met?’


	5. Chapter 5

Sirius was the first to recover.

‘Yes, we’ve met,’ he said, a hint of haughty indifference to his tone Remus had never heard before. He stood up and shook Remus’s hand formally. ‘First assistant-Healer Lupin, nice to see you again.’

‘Er, yes,’ Remus responded, letting go of his hand. ‘You too.’

His mind conjured up images of Sirius, bleeding profusely, burn marks surrounding his mouth. Without thinking, Remus put his hand in his pocket and felt the coins there. He hadn’t had a chance to give them back yet, and kept transferring them from pocket to pocket, on the off-chance Sirius would appear unexpectedly at St Mungo’s again. He didn’t want to make the boy feel like he’d stolen from him. But there was no way he could give them back without bringing up the last time that they’d met.  

Alice was smiling brightly besides him, but Remus could see that her eyes were guarded. He’d never shared his suspicions with her after she’d helped cure Sirius, but she was smart, and he figured she thought something was off as well. Sirius, he realised with a jolt, hadn’t known who Alice was at all, because he’d been unconscious by the time she’d appeared at his bedside. This was perhaps the reason he was still here, looking up at Remus with an inscrutable look on his face.

‘Well,’ Alice said, turning to Remus, ‘let’s get you fed, shall we? He’s just come from the hospital,’ she added, for the benefit of the Potters.

‘Yes, please,’ said Remus gratefully, earning a laugh from Fleamont, who clapped him on the back. ‘Happy New Year’s,’ Remus offered, before Alice pulled him away. The three Potters and Sirius echoed his sentiments.

Remus’s mind was reeling and it took him a few moments to realise that Alice was steering him past people and then into the kitchen, which smelled wonderfully of mince pie and cloves. The counter was filled with dirty glasses, and empty bottles of wine and champagne lay, abandoned, in the sink. Alice rounded on him, sitting him down in a chair by the kitchen table. Remus looked up at her helplessly.

‘You look like you need a drink,’ she said firmly, and opened a nearby cabinet, producing a bottle of Ogden’s Old Firewhisky and pouring him a glass.

Remus accepted it from her without a word, taking a sip. The whisky was warm, and he could feel it burn all the way down his throat. Alice, meanwhile, was reheating some of the roast lamb she’d made for dinner.

‘I hadn’t –’ he said.

‘I know,’ Alice interrupted, looking up at him. ‘But you can’t say anything to him.’

‘I wasn’t planning to,’ Remus said softly, a little stung.

Next to his other patients, Remus tended to a handful of private, out-care patients, who paid a hefty fee to the hospital each month to be guaranteed immediate care. As with all his patients, Healer confidentiality was expected, but the galleons the private patients paid got them one other guarantee: Healers assigned to their cases were strictly forbidden to involve any of the other Healers. And in bringing in Alice to help him with Sirius, Remus had broken that confidentiality, and he’d been summoned into Healer Kinnaird’s office. Remus had had to defend his impulsive decision to Kinnaird by insisting it had been a matter of life or death and he hadn’t had the expertise in Potions required for the case. He’d narrowly escaped a fine, but Kinnaird had assigned him an extra twelve-hour shift, without pay, as punishment.

Which had been why he’d had to report to the hospital today, on New Year’s, and had spent the day healing incredibly stupid people.

Remus was startled out of his reverie by Alice, who put a plate full of lamb and crispy, browned potatoes on the table in front of him. It smelled heavenly. Out of the three of them, Alice had been the best cook, and there’d always been something delicious to heat up when he returned to the flat. Her presence had made it a home; now it was more a place he and Marlene slept. 

‘Eat,’ she said, her tone motherly, putting a hand on his shoulder and plucking the empty whisky glass out of his hand. ‘We’ll wait until you come back to set off the fireworks.’

‘Thanks,’ Remus said, tucking in gratefully. She smiled, and left him to it, closing the kitchen door softly behind her.

Fifteen minutes later, Remus had washed up his plate and had just found the right spot to put it back in – he still didn’t really know his way around Alice’s kitchen, because it was larger than any he’d ever seen – when the door opened. Remus turned to the sound, banging his head on the cabinet door in the process, and swore, rubbing his forehead.

‘Sorry,’ came Sirius’s voice, sounding apologetic. ‘I didn’t mean to startle you.’

Remus froze.

‘Look,’ said Sirius, his eyes focused somewhere around Remus’s ear. ‘Thanks. I mean, for Christmas.’

‘Just doing my job,’ said Remus carefully, closing the cabinet door, and looking at him properly. Sirius was wearing a cheerful red, thick woollen jumper, emblazoned with a lion, which made Remus’s lips quirk upwards in amusement. He was certainly very proud to be in Gryffindor.

‘Right,’ responded Sirius, looking down at the floor.

Remus, meanwhile, had made his way towards Sirius and was standing still in front of him. Up close, Sirius seemed really small, and fragile, in a way.

‘I still have your money,’ Remus said, remembering suddenly and fishing the coins out of his pocket. ‘I’ve been meaning to give it back to you.’

Sirius blinked at Remus’s outstretched hand for a second, and then looked up at him, his striking grey eyes wide.

‘Oh,’ Sirius said, his voice clipping around the sound. ‘That’s all right. Keep it.’

Remus opened his mouth to respond but at that moment, as if on cue, Fabian Prewett poked his head around the kitchen door.

‘Remus,’ he sing-songed, ‘have you finished? Only you’re taking absolutely ages and making everyone wait.’

‘I’m done, Fabian,’ Remus responded, amused.

Sirius was looking between the two of them, his eyes having turned bright with recognition, his mouth having dropped slightly. Any Gryffindor would recognise Fabian and his twin, Gideon Prewett, who were legendary in Gryffindor for their pranks and general naughtiness. Remus had known the twins since forever; his father was close friends with Mr Prewett, and the Lupins had spent countless dinners at their house.

‘Let’s get going, then, before Frank starts screaming bloody murder,’ Fabian said, and there was a warm familiarity in the way his arm was slung over Remus's shoulder.

Remus pressed the coins into Sirius’s open palm, grinning at him with a mischievous look in his eyes. He left him standing in the kitchen by himself, hand outstretched and a look of utter bewilderment on his face.

* * *

The start of the New Year disappeared in a hazy mist of magical fireworks and a blurry picture of rounds, seventy-two hour shifts, and patients. Remus didn’t see Sirius at all, something that made him feel both anxious and relieved. And before he knew it, it was August. London was brightly lit and deceptively humid, a heat which permeated the walls of the courtyard of St Mungo’s. He was sitting with Marlene and Alice, chatting amiably about a new potion that had just been invited by a famous potioneer Alice admired, his white Healer robes sticking to his neck uncomfortably. Lunch was almost over.

Marlene’s wand was the first to buzz, summoning her into St Mungo’s, which was softly cool by contrast. Alice’s wand pulsed quickly after that, and she disappeared with a small smile over her shoulder. So Remus sat by himself, thoughtfully finishing his lunch, as he looked up to the set of beech trees that knotted themselves into a web above his head. He felt rather than heard his wand vibrate next to him, and he sighed as it summoned him to the fourth floor. He stood up, his limbs languid and warm in the thick summer air.

All in all, he couldn’t say he was very surprised, when he made his way there, to come face to face with Mrs Black. The magical parchment that hovered in front of him the moment he entered the room merely provided a prim list of symptoms that could describe to any number of diseases.

‘Mrs Black,’ he greeted politely.

‘First assistant-Healer Lupin,’ she said, somehow making it sound like an insult.

‘Mr Black,’ Remus said softly, making his way over to the bed, where Sirius was sitting, looking pale, and like his skin wasn’t fitting him right. Sirius didn’t look at him.

‘He’s been like that for days,’ Mrs Black said crossly, ‘I’d like you to fix him.’

‘Certainly,’ said Remus, ordering his wand to start with the diagnostic spells, which it did, hovering over Sirius and calmly lighting up patches of his skin with a faint, comforting blue light. Spells complete, the wand fell limply into Remus’s waiting hand.

‘Mr Black, I’m going to need you to disrobe,’ he said.

Sirius turned his head, slowly and lethargically, and nodded his assent.  

‘I’ll wait outside,’ Mrs Black said, and left the room, surprising Remus with her discreetness.

Remus, meanwhile, stood with his back turned towards the bed, waiting patiently as behind him, Sirius undressed. He heard the shift of fabric, the sound of fingers slipping on buttons, the small hush of robes falling to the cold hospital floor. Remus turned around after it stopped and found Sirius sitting there, looking out of the window of the room, which had been magically spelled to show a beautiful summer’s day in Kent.  

‘I’m going to examine you now,’ Remus said softly, sitting down on the bed next to Sirius. He pressed his hand, softly but with pressure, against the ribs on Sirius’s left side, and heard and felt Sirius’s sharp intake of breath against his fingers. Remus ignored this, and felt his way around the boy’s ribcage, carefully, searching, cataloguing.

At least two broken ribs on the left side, it felt like. Remus’s fingers continued their search, pushing carefully on each one at the other side, and then Sirius started coughing – a sound that Remus could feel came from deep within his chest, and looked enormously painful. Remus conjured a handkerchief for him, and was unfazed when Sirius offered it back to him, stained with green phlegm, a while later.

‘Three broken ribs, two cracked,’ Remus told him, Sirius’s skin burning with fever underneath his hands. ‘And I suspect you’re suffering from bronchitis. How long have you been ill, Mr Black?’

‘What’s today?’ Sirius asked him. His voice sounded hoarse, and it looked like a struggle for him to get the words out.

‘August 17th,’ Remus responded, taking his wand out and pressing it carefully against the ribs on Sirius’s left side.

‘Two weeks,’ came Sirius’s response, easy and practised.

Remus didn’t bother telling him that the magic that whooshed out of his body when Remus healed the ribs on his right side felt older, because that would mean that Sirius’s ribs had been cracked and broken for almost two months now, and Remus thought Sirius knew that all too well. He moved his hand to Sirius’s forehead, which felt feverish and slightly damp. He muttered a spell and Sirius’s fever broke against his waiting hand, fading easily into the air around them.

Remus held his hand there for a fraction longer, glancing down at Sirius, who was looking up at him, his eyes slowly adjusting to the room as if he was seeing it for the first time.

‘I have asked you this before,’ Remus said, softly. He felt Sirius stiffen underneath his hand. ‘But I shall ask once more. Are you sure you are all right, Mr Black?’

‘Yes,’ Sirius said at once, sounding exasperated, and haughty. His eyes were an accusing shade of grey, blazing brightly at Remus, and one of his fists was clenched. ‘You need to stop asking me that.’

‘Very well,’ Remus said, easily dropping his hand. ‘I have healed your ribs, but you will need to take a set of potions for your bronchitis. It was neglected for far too long and a simple Healing Charm will not work. I’ve broken the fever for now, but it will return.’

‘Fine,’ Sirius responded, and for the first time, Remus noticed that Sirius’s breath – now that it wasn't laced with sickness and pain – smelled like nicotine. Without really meaning to, Remus’s eyebrows rose up off their own accord. Was Sirius even old enough to be smoking, being all of twelve?

Sirius merely looked up at him, eyes narrowed. ‘What?’ he barked.

‘I’d recommend you lay off cigarettes when you take the potions, Mr Black,’ Remus said, angry for no reason he could properly explain to himself, finding his voice slipping easily into that lilt his grandfather’s always had, dangerous and pureblood around the edges. Sirius’s eyes widened, seemingly off their own accord, and he looked genuinely surprised for a second.

At that exact moment, the door opened, and Mrs Black stepped in.

‘Have you quite finished?’

‘Mother!’ Sirius said, sounding utterly horrified at being found by her, half-undressed. Mrs Black paid him no mind, however, and merely fixed her cold blue eyes on Remus, expectantly.

‘All is finished,’ Remus said, the magical parchment zooming neatly into his hand as he listed down the details of the injuries and the recommended treatment. ‘Sirius is suffering from bronchitis. I will prescribe him a set of potions, which should be taken for the rest of the week. They will be delivered by owl post to your house within the hour. Your son should be right as rain after that.’

‘Thank you,’ said Mrs Black.

‘Yes, thank you, first assistant-Healer Lupin,’ Sirius said shortly, somehow managing to sound not the least bit thankful at all. Remus bowed to them both, and left the room, annoyance flaring, hard, in his stomach.

Fine. If Sirius didn’t want his help, then he wasn’t going to give it.


	6. Chapter 6

Summer faded outwards in a colourful haze of brightly yellow afternoons. When the hospital offered him a week off, he and Marlene took a Portkey to her parents’ house, which was in a village about an hour north of Inverness, deep within the Scottish Highlands. The house Mr and Mrs McKinnon lived in was made of flat-fronted brick and had sash windows, which were adorned by faded, green curtains. The land at the back of the house sloped steeply downwards, clad in heather, and ended in a lake, with water that shone a bright, clear blue in the dazzling summer sunlight.

Every morning, Remus woke early, tumbled out of the house in a mess of limbs and ran down the slope, through the mauve heather, his breathing burning in his chest, and launched himself into the water. After his morning swim, he’d take a shower and head out into town, dutifully collecting the post from Mrs Lurdham and often stopping by the bakery to pick up something for lunch. On the last morning of their trip, he made his way out of the post office, looking over his shoulder at Mrs Lurdham and offering her a wave. He looked forward and realised, just in time, that he was about to collide with someone else.

He side-stepped, pushing himself against the doorframe to avoid a collision. The doorway was rather too tiny to fit two people and he was almost pressed uncomfortably close against the woman. Because it had been a woman with whom he’d nearly collided. She had a kind, heart-shaped face and a set of sharp brown eyes. She was smiling at him, stepping past him into the shop, which allowed Remus to stand up straight again. And then her eyes lit up with a recognition Remus knew was mirrored on his own.

‘Glassborow,’ he breathed.

Valerie, she was called, Valerie Glassborow, and she’d been a year below him at Hogwarts, in Slytherin. She’d been a Prefect, like him, and he remembered suddenly, oddly, how she’d liked Pepper Imps.

Valerie’s smile widened. ‘Lupin, how nice to see you again.’

* * *

Valerie. She was beautiful, enigmatic, and a ruthless editor at the _Daily Prophet_. Their relationship was an easy one to fall into, after that one meeting in Mrs Lurdham’s shop, and carried over summer and well on into the next year, and then the next. Remus was more often than not sleeping in Valerie’s house, which was decorated only in the simplest shades of white and grey, and shared his life with her. She organised homely dinner parties that always involved Alice and Marlene; kept them attending Ministry balls and luncheons; and was a fervent supporter of his career as a Healer, constantly pushing him to grow and get better.

She’d been the first to congratulate him on his win of the _Dilys Derwent Award for Excellence in Healing_ for his Healing Charm, which he’d finally managed to get to work. It was lauded around the magical community for the ease in which it prescribed the antidote for the most common of household injuries. The silver cup he’d been awarded was kept in a cabinet near the reception of St Mungo’s, and every time Remus passed it on his way into work, he got just the tiniest bit embarrassed.

Valerie threw him a magnificent surprise party after the ceremony, Gideon and Fabian Prewett setting off magical fireworks that spelled out his name and then something else, which had very little to do with the spell and earned the twins a cuff around the head. The party lasted until well into the night, and Remus fell asleep with his arm around Valerie, her beautiful, silvery blonde hair brushing his forehead.

His parents adored Valerie, perhaps rightly so, and his mother often made thinly-veiled comments about marriage whenever the two of them visited the Lupin house, which was modest, compared to the large, London terrace house that belonged to Valerie’s parents. Somehow, though, whenever he and Valerie talked about the subject, it was in trepidation. She was dedicated to her career, she would say, and so was he. So marriage and children wouldn’t really work, what with his hours and her travelling all the time. It made a lot of sense when Remus heard it spoken out loud in her perfectly clipped London tones, and so the subject would be closed.

She was right, though. Winning the award earned him a promotion at the hospital, resulting in more pay, more time for research, and shorter shifts. And from there, it was an easy step into becoming an actual Healer, something he achieved at only twenty-eight. He was the youngest person to receive this rank since Ruaraidh Kinnaird, who had aged terribly in the last four years. And even if the Head Healer lost his glasses five times a day, he still had his occasional bouts of brilliance, and he liked Remus enormously, heaping him with praise and congratulations on the day his promotion was announced.

Remus didn’t really realise the full extent of what being a Healer actually meant until he was made to turn in his white assistant-Healer robes and was given, instead, a full set of lime green ones, which he accepted with a dazed look. That night, Valerie invited Alice, Frank and Marlene over for dinner, and they all got spectacularly drunk on bottles of expensive French wine, which had been gifted to Remus and Valerie by Mrs Glassborow.

And if Remus thought at all of Sirius Black in those four years, it was only in passing, in small moments, like when Valerie was sat on the sofa, the dark, dramatic words of the Italian operas she listened to when she was working reminding him inexplicably of Sirius’s stormy grey eyes.

* * *

It was a cloudy day in early July when his wand vibrated in the middle of a conversation he was having with one of his patients.

‘Presence of Healer Lupin required on Fourth Floor, Spell Damage,’ it said in a clear voice, once he took it out of the front pocket of his robes.

The lady he’d been tending to, who was called Elfrida, looked a bit put out. It took him another two minutes before she let him go, with assurances that he would be back later to check up upon her. By the time he closed the door of the ward, his wand vibrated again, a bit more urgently this time, and repeated its message.

‘Noted,’ he told it, stifling a yawn, and it glowed in confirmation. When he reached the right room at the end of the long corridor, his wand glowed again to indicate it as such, and he pocketed it, and then opened the door. Remus heard two voices stop in mid-conversation, but his eyes were trained on the magical parchment that appeared in front of him. _Minor injuries_ , it read, and Remus frowned in disapproval. Patients were discouraged from going to St Mungo’s for minor injuries that could easily be healed at home, so that the Healers could give their full attention to the cases that needed it most.

He lowered the parchment, schooling his expression into one of politeness. With a surprised jolt, he recognised James Potter, who was leant against the far wall. He must be around sixteen, having grown taller and broader in the shoulders, his hair sticking up messily in the back. He was wearing a pair of jeans and an off-red shirt that had once probably sported the name of a Quidditch team, but it had now faded. James gave a lazy grin when he saw Remus, and his eyes sparkled with mischief.

As if off their own accord, Remus’s eyes drifted towards the bed where, inevitably, Sirius Black was sitting. He looked older than sixteen, his body far too big for the hospital bed, tall and long-limbed with a graceful elegance that screamed pureblood. His black hair had grown longer, falling into his grey eyes, and he was wearing a simple black shirt and a pair of thick black trousers that looked to be part of the Hogwarts winter uniform, if the Gryffindor crest was anything to go by. His right hand was bleeding.

‘Mr Black,’ said Remus. ‘What appears to be the problem?’

Sirius opened his mouth to respond, but James interrupted him. ‘Put his hand through a window, didn’t he?’ he said, and it sounded far too amused. ‘Idiot.’

Remus looked at Sirius, who wasn’t really looking at him, and then sat down on the side of the bed. ‘Let me see that,’ he said, and Sirius wordlessly offered him his right hand, which was bleeding, but not very profusely, for which Remus was somehow grateful. Remus took out his wand and magically pulled out a small smattering of glass shards from Sirius’s skin, then set about healing the small cuts and bruises surrounding his knuckles. It didn’t take more than a minute before Remus was putting Sirius’s hand down on the sheets carefully again.

‘Done,’ he said, standing up. ‘Although I do have to say that was hardly worth the visit to St Mungo’s, Mr Black.’

‘Told him that,’ said James, peeling himself off the wall with effortless ease. ‘But I’m shit at Healing Charms, even worse than Sirius is, and my parents weren’t home, so I thought it was better for him to come here.’

Remus blinked at Sirius, who wasn’t looking at him. ‘Prongs,’ he said, tossing some coins at James, who caught them easily, ‘get me something to eat, will you, I’m starving.’

James only rolled his eyes, muttered something that sounded like ‘tosser’, but said he would, giving Remus a cheerful little wave before he left the room. Remus blinked in response, and then looked back at Sirius. That had been rather abrupt.

‘Sorry. Just didn’t want him to see this bit,’ Sirius said, and it sounded almost apologetic. Then, he was rolling up the fabric of the left leg of his trousers, revealing something that was utterly disgusting. The layers of the skin on his leg looked to have been burned back, exposing sinews and muscle and blood, which had been steadily soaking his trousers.

Remus glanced at the wound and then up at Sirius, noticing for the first time that he looked a bit strained, which was probably a combination of the blood loss and the thick wool of his trousers irritating his open wound. And also, possibly, from the exertion of not wanting to appear wounded in front of James Potter, which must’ve cost him a lot of effort. The leg didn’t look like it could hold much of Sirius’s weight. He did have to commend Sirius for his quick thinking, though, having obviously smashed his hand into a window to create a visible reason for him to appear at St Mungo’s.

Suddenly, Remus felt immensely, incredibly tired, because it was time to pull rank. He’d waited for far too long, already. ‘Mr Black,’ he said. ‘After I’ve healed that, I’m going to need you to stay here and fill in a report. I rather think this has gone on long enough.’

Sirius glanced up at Remus through the hair that was falling into his eyes, blinking at him for a moment, but then he offered him a bright, disarming smile.

‘That won’t be necessary. I’ve run away,’ he said, dismissively.

Remus stared.

‘From home,’ Sirius clarified, as if Remus’s silence had meant he was a bit dim. ‘I’m going to live with James for a while.’

Remus couldn’t think of anything to say to that, really, so he settled for not saying anything at all. He realised he was still staring into Sirius’s eyes, though, which looked back at him perfectly calmly, as if it was the most normal thing in the world for sixteen-year-old children to announce to their Healers that they had just run away from home. Remus blinked, and then dropped his gaze to Sirius’s leg, instead.

He leaned closer, examining the wound, taking his wand out of his pocket and lighting it with a flick of his wrist. He touched his fingers to the skin of Sirius’s leg, making Sirius suck in a breath, and carefully moved his fingers over the exposed wound. Remus presumed that, whatever the spell had been, it had ordered Sirius’s skin to attack itself, layers burning away to reveal what was underneath. It looked like complicated Dark magic, the kind he hadn’t seen in a very, very long time.

Although he knew it wasn’t going to tell him anything new, Remus muttered his own Healing Charm under his breath, and watched as it wrote out a neat set of instructions in mid-air.

‘Oh, yeah,’ said Sirius conversationally, as if he always lay in a hospital bed with lethal injuries, ‘read about that spell in the Prophet. You’re clever.’

Remus blinked up at him, not sure if that warranted a reply, but he felt his lips quirk into a smile, nonetheless. Instead of responding, though, he leaned over Sirius’s injuries, trying to decide which the best place to start was. It took him not more than ten minutes, in the end. It begun with Sirius’s skin knitting itself together in places where the spell had hit him superficially, and then, with a prod of Remus’s wand, it went deeper, skin raising itself up, reconstructing layers upon layers where they had been burned away. Sirius was quite still during the process, much like the very first time Remus had tended to him.

When Remus was done, he gestured for Sirius to pull his trouser leg back down, which he did. Remus spelled it clean, and Sirius smiled at him gratefully.

‘I’m going to prescribe you a Blood-Replenishing Potion, as you appear to have lost quite an amount. I’ll need you to take it for three days, at least, until there is enough blood back in your system,’ Remus said.

‘All right,’ said Sirius.

‘And I would highly recommend filling in that report, anyway, Mr Black. I don’t think your current living situation detracts from the matter at hand –’ Remus said, but it didn’t really seem like Sirius was paying much attention to what he was saying.

Instead, he was looking at Remus with a soft, unfamiliar look in his eyes, which made Remus feel slightly uncomfortable. But before he could rightly process what was happening, Sirius had clenched his hand in Remus’s lime green Healer robes, tugged him forward so that their faces were very close, and kissed him, hard.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I took Valerie’s name from a newspaper article about the Duchess of Cambridge, and found it recently, scribbled in one of my notebooks. Valerie worked at Bletchley Park, as a codebreaker, in the Second World War. She seemed to have just the right sort of quiet brilliance that Remus would be attracted to. 
> 
> Thank you all very much for your kind words and kudos so far. They make my day ♥


	7. Chapter 7

The kiss lasted only a split-second, before Remus broke it by pulling back, perhaps with a little more nervous force than necessary. Sirius’s hand fell from his lime green Healer robes onto the sheets, and he was looking at Remus, his very grey eyes earnest. They were both silent, and what had just happened, however short it had been, hung thickly in the air between them.

Remus got up from the bed, smoothing down his robes as he tried to collect his thoughts, which were plentiful. The magical parchment, sensing treatment had ended, floated smoothly in the air towards him, and Remus looked down at it. Perhaps, he thought, as the proffered quill hovered near his left hand, it was best if he simply did not acknowledge it. Sirius, as if knowing him intimately, opened his mouth to say something, but at that very moment, the door swung open and James Potter appeared.

His arms were laden with a bright assortment of sweets: bars of Honeydukes Best Chocolate in a variety of tastes, Cauldron Cakes, Fizzing Whizzbees, Liquorice Wands and Sugar Quills. James walked over to the bed and dropped everything in Sirius’s lap, rather unceremoniously. Sirius looked up at him, seemingly torn between being amused and annoyed.

‘For the desperately wounded,’ James said, plopping down next to Sirius on the bed. ‘All right?’

‘Yeah, cheers,’ Sirius said, with his mouth wrapped around a Sugar Quill, his eyes deliberately not meeting Remus’s.

Remus, meanwhile, had finished filling out the parchment; after he signed his name, the parchment and the quill to disappeared with a soft pop. Whereas the quill would fade into nothingness, the parchment would appear again on the desk of someone in Filing, and they would dutifully update Sirius’s file with the happenings of today. Remus suddenly felt the headache, which had been pricking at the edges of his eyes for the entire day, thump heavily in the back of his head.

‘Mr Black, the potion will be delivered by owl post to your house within the hour – ’

James Potter rounded on him, eyes wide, and interrupted him with a suspicious, ‘Potion? Why? What for?’

Sirius had looked over at Remus with bright, accusing eyes, and opened his mouth to respond when Remus did it for him.

‘Infection,’ he lied smoothly. ‘Unfortunately, a piece of glass got into Mr Black’s bloodstream and the potion will help to magically break it down, so it can cause no further damage.’

Sirius stared at him.

James blinked for a moment, and then said, seemingly accepting this turn of events, ‘All right. Thank you for your care, Healer Lupin.’

Remus bowed to Sirius, and then to James, before making his way out of the room, his headache thumping vengefully. He made his way quietly down the stairs towards his office, which he had been given after his promotion. It was located on the sixth floor of the hospital, which was inaccessible to patients. He walked past the floor’s Contact Secretary, who grinned happily at him, and then made his way over to his office. He touched his wand to the door, which unlocked easily, recognising his magical signature, and closed the door behind him. What he really needed, right now, was some time to think.

But he would get no chance, because Valerie was sitting primly in his visitor’s chair, her blue robes draped elegantly over the leather. She smiled up at him and stood up, her silvery blond hair braided elegantly into a bun.

A feeling of unreality washed over him.

‘Darling,’ she said, kissing his cheek, ‘I’ve come to take you to lunch.’

‘Sounds good,’ he found himself saying, and she laughed, looping her arm through his.

* * *

They had lunch in a restaurant that overlooked Diagon Alley; the same one Remus had visited many years ago on his first and only date with Martha, who had since left her job at St Mungo’s. The restaurant had undergone a heavy renovation a while ago and gone was the elegant, French decor, replaced with wide-planked wood floors, dark grey walls and heavy fireplaces on either end of the restaurant. It felt infinitely homier, now.

Remus had barely touched his lamb, which smelled heavily of chorizo. His headache had taken a turn for the worse after he’d finished the glass of red wine Valerie had ordered for him. Valerie, on the other hand, was eating her spiced pumpkin across him, her eyes sparkling, and the wine glass she held fitting elegantly in her hand. She was telling him about the photographer she had approved just seconds before she’d made her way to St Mungo’s to invite him for lunch.

‘We shall have to see about him tomorrow,’ she was saying now, her tone regretful, and Remus turned his attention to her. ‘It will probably be dismally hot. The weather in Provence is never very forgiving.’

Remus gave a vague reply, consenting to this, and Valerie’s sharp eyes regarded him.

‘Did something happen?’ she asked lightly.

‘Headache,’ Remus offered, in response.

She made a soft noise of discontent, setting down her glass on the table and putting her small, pale hand on his. ‘Are you all right?’

‘Yes,’ said Remus, squeezing her hand softly, and then taking it away, running it through his hair. ‘I’ll take a Potion when I get back to work. When will you leave?’

‘In a few hours,’ Valerie said. ‘Our Portkey is set to depart at five. With some luck, we’ll be able to catch the last rays of sunlight for the photos.’

She signalled the waiter, who politely made his way over, and presented her with the bill. Remus had pulled out his wallet, but she ignored him completely, neatly signing her name to the parchment with the quill that was offered beside it. The words _paid_ _in full_ appeared at the top of it; after a few seconds, it glowed dutifully, indicating that the money had been transferred from Valerie's Gringotts account to the vault belonging to the proprietor.

‘Thank you,’ she told the waiter, who bowed deeply. She stood up, adjusting her cloak over her shoulder.

‘Have a safe trip,’ Remus told her, and when she turned her face his way, he leaned over and kissed her on the mouth. She stilled, unused to this public display of affection, but she was giving him a smile that was indulgent around the edges when he pulled back.

‘Thank you. I’ll see you in a few days.’

* * *

He returned to his office, tired, weary, his headache pulling with a vengeance at his mind, unforgiving in its ferocity. He wrote a memo to the Contact Secretary; a few minutes later, the boy stepped into the room with a familiar blue bottle, labelled Pepper-Up Potion, in his hand.

‘Here you go, sir,’ he said, putting the potion down on Remus’s desk.

‘Thank you, Ketteridge,’ Remus said, gratefully, nodding at the boy.

‘Sir,’ said Ketteridge, ‘I’ve received an urgent owl from Mrs Potter, requesting a meeting with you.’

‘Oh,’ said Remus. That was unexpected. ‘Certainly. Tell her I will meet with her after I’ve finished my rounds.’

‘Ah,’ said Ketteridge nervously. ‘Well, you see, sir, I had not exactly expected you to take such a long lunch break, and informed her that you would be free. She’s waiting in the lobby.’

Remus stared at him for a moment, but then shrugged. ‘All right. Send her in.’

‘Thank you, sir,’ said Ketteridge, who visibly relaxed. He left the room and Remus thoughtfully grabbed the Pepper-Up Potion, taking a sip. It made him feel impossibly warm and cleared up his headache. He knew the effect would only be temporary, because the Potion was meant to cure the common cold. And he did not have a cold; he rather suspected his headache was a by-product of Sirius Black, and too much wine. He turned round, his back to the door. His office offered a view over the bleak London buildings, which shimmered and glittered in the early July heat. If he looked really hard, on a clear day, he could catch a glint of the Thames.

‘Healer Lupin,’ said a clear voice, unexpectedly. Remus turned to find Euphemia Potter, dressed in a disarming set of green robes which made her hazel eyes sparkle. ‘Thank you for seeing me on such short notice. I won’t take up very much of your time.’

‘Of course,’ said Remus, waving his hand towards the leather chair Valerie had occupied not two hours ago, ‘have a seat.’

She sat down and smiled at him as he took a seat behind his desk, meeting her smile. ‘What can I do for you?’

The Potters, like the Blacks, were private, out-care patients. He was not assigned as their Healer, however – if he remembered correctly, that was a burly bloke called Rodgers. He had no idea why she wanted to talk to him, specifically.

‘I only wished to tell you that we submitted a request with the board this morning to have Sirius Black reassigned into the care of our Healer, Rodgers. It was approved an hour ago,’ she said.

‘I see,’ was all Remus could think to say.

‘I do have an additional request, if that’s all right,’ she continued. ‘Since Sirius is so very fond of you, I would like you to remain available for any advice he might need.’

Remus looked at her. As far as he was aware, this was a very unusual request, especially for out-care patients. He had no idea how that was going to affect his Healer confidentiality; Rodgers was a fine chap, if a bit short-tempered, and Remus wasn’t sure if he’d be willing to co-operate with him.

‘I’m not sure –’ he started, but she only smiled up at him, brilliantly, and he closed his mouth again.

‘I’ve already discussed things with Rodgers and he’s absolutely fine with it, if that’s what you’re worried about.’

‘Then, of course,’ Remus found himself saying, and her smile widened.

‘I’m glad. Thank you, Healer Lupin,’ she said, and stood up. Remus noticed for the first time that he had been mistaken when he thought she had had blonde hair. In the forgiving firelight, burning brightly in Alice’s living room, it had looked that way. But Mrs Potter’s hair was actually a very light shade of off-white, tied neatly into a bun at the nape of her neck. She looked somehow older than Remus had expected her to be.

‘Mrs Potter,’ he said, and shook the hand she offered him. ‘Thank you for coming in.’

She left, leaving him to thoughts of Sirius Black, whom he’d known since he was just a six-year-old boy.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Each floor of St Mungo’s has one Contact Secretary, who manages and monitors the communication of each of the active Healers of that floor, both within and outside of St Mungo's.
> 
> I named Ketteridge for Elladora Ketteridge, who appeared on a Chocolate Frog card on Pottermore. She first discovered the properties Gillyweed, a discovery which was later credited to Beaumont Majoribanks.


	8. Chapter 8

Days carried on as they usually did. He dismissed a slew of patients from the Spell Damage ward, including Elfrida who, much to her chagrin, had made a full recovery. Her departure, among that of the other patients, left a handful of empty beds, which were filled again just as easily with patients suffering from a wide variety of ailments.

Presently, he found himself tending to small William Weasley. He’d been wailing unfalteringly from the very moment Remus had arrived at his bed, and was refusing to elaborate on his injuries. Molly Weasley, who Remus knew quite well, was sat by his bedside, holding his hand. Charlie was stood beside her, pressed against her side, and her belly was swollen with pregnancy.

‘I don’t know what happened,’ she told Remus, and there was tiredness and resignation in her voice, the circles under her eyes dark. She looked dead on her feet. Remus had half a mind to set her up in the bed next to Bill’s and keep her there until she’d rested.

Remus nodded in acknowledgement and ordered his wand to perform the necessary diagnostic spells. It was really more of a formality; Remus suspected Bill’s clavicle had fractured, because it looked disjointed from the rest of his body, sticking out slightly from the socket of his shoulder. The wand confirmed this suspicion, falling limply into his waiting hand once the spells were completed.

‘Bill,’ he said, softly, and the boy looked up at him, the shock of red hair nearly hiding his eyes from view. ‘You’re hurt, I understand. But I need you to show me your arm so I can heal you.’

Bill’s lower lip was trembling, but he stopped fussing, allowing Remus to point his wand at his arm and sucking in a sharp breath when his clavicle lowered gently back into place with a snap, the bone healing and the joints and ligaments knitting themselves back together, sealing it neatly back in place. Molly was holding onto his hand, which looked tiny in hers.

‘You’re all set now,’ said Remus, producing a bar of Honeydukes Finest out of his robes and handing it to Bill wordlessly. ‘Be careful.’

He tucked into it gratefully. Molly smiled up at him beautifully; her fiery red hair woven into a neat plait on her shoulder, and Remus smiled back at her, and then rose from the bed.

‘I’ll write down some basic Healing Spells for you,’ he said. She had risen at the same time he did and was now beaming at him, gratefully. He’d grown up with the Prewetts, although he knew Gideon and Fabian, who were closer to him in age, a lot better than Molly, who had been years ahead of him at Hogwarts. Still, he was fond of her, and her children.  

‘Thanks Remus,’ she said. Charlie had fallen asleep, his face pressed against the cool wood of the chair. Bill was still eating the chocolate, but his eyes were drooping. ‘Come to dinner sometime soon, will you?’

She took his hand and squeezed it. He squeezed back, and then pulled his hand away, concentrating on filling in the magical parchment and, then, on copying down some basic Healing Spells down for her on a spare piece he conjured up out of thin air.

‘Take care now,’ he said, to Bill, and then to Molly, who nodded gratefully.

No sooner had he made his way out of the ward, closing the door behind him, when his wand lit up, vibrating softly in his hand. ‘Presence of all Healers required immediately at the Admissions Department, First Floor,’ it said, in a clear voice.

‘Noted,’ he said, surprised, quickly making his way downstairs.

* * *

It turned out that the Head Healers of all departments had called in an emergency meeting because the Knight Bus had been in an accident, crashing quite spectacularly (if eyewitnesses were to be believed) into a boat somewhere in Cornwall, although there was still some confusion as to how this had happened. It was the first time the Knight Bus had ever been involved in an accident.

‘The Ministry’s already Obliviating witnesses,’ said the Head Healer of Artefact Accidents, whom Remus didn’t really like very much, importantly. ‘Their estimates are that at least a hundred people have been injured. All Healers will be put on duty in my department, which has been increased to accommodate the victims. If you’re dealing with a life threatening case in another department, see to that first. We don’t know when they will be arriving, but my guess is soon. Be ready.’

Next to Remus, Alice was stood, her face white. Marlene, on the other side of him, looked grim.

All of a sudden, the walls of the room around them flashed a bright red in warning.

‘Presence of all Healers required immediately on the Ground Floor,’ came the calm voice Remus usually heard from his wand, which echoed from the very walls of the room itself.

Alice squeezed his hand.

* * *

The worst were the Muggle victims, who knew little of magic, and were not only hugely distrustful of all that was going on, but also in shock.  

Remus had an awful time trying to tend to an elderly man, whose face was matted with blood, and whose left leg had been severed from his body. His right was only barely attached, and was currently lying at a disturbing angle. The man was barely conscious, his face a pasty white from blood loss. His wife – who would normally not be allowed to be in the hospital, but had somehow managed to get past the security measures – was clutching his arm tightly, and wasn’t allowing Remus, or the assistant Healers stood behind him, near the bed.

‘Get away,’ she said, swiping at Remus with her handbag. ‘You’ll only make it worse!’

Remus was starting to lose his patience, and his voice became tight. ‘Mrs Boscowe, I’m going to need you to step aside. If I don’t tend to your husband’s legs within the next three seconds, there’s a good chance he’ll never walk again.’

Her face twisted into an expression of fury. ‘It’s _your_ fault he’s like this in the first place! We were on holiday! Then your blasted bus appears out of thin air and explodes into the boat we’re on! I want to go to a proper hospital, not this place!’ she snarled.

‘Mrs Boscowe,’ said Remus, quietly. ‘If you wish to refuse treatment, you’re perfectly within your right to do so. I’ll dismiss your husband immediately.’

A hopeful look crossed her face.

‘I’d advise you to say your last goodbyes before you do, however,’ said Remus, the magical parchment detailing Mr Boscowe’s injuries zooming into hand. He didn’t really recognise his voice, which was twisting into an ugly, pureblood thing, reminiscent of his grandfather. ‘He’ll be dead within the next two minutes.’

One of the assistant Healers behind him sucked in a breath. Remus ignored him, his face impassive as he looked at the woman. Mrs Boscowe’s face registered only blank shock, and then she glanced at her husband, whose breathing had turned shallow and sickly. Her grip on his arm tightened, and she looked up at Remus.

‘Fine,’ she said, a snick in her tone that sounded like tears, and stepped away from the bed.

It took two brutal, bitter hours, but Mr Boscowe’s legs were reattached and, after much prodding, revealed themselves to be fully functioning.

Remus was now telling his wife he would need to stay in hospital for a week to recover.

‘Absolutely not,’ she said, in a bitter voice laced with triumphant hatred Remus was surprised to find was aimed at him directly. ‘I’ve already spoken to the Head Healer. I’m taking him home.’

‘I strongly advise against this, Mrs Boscowe,’ urged Remus. ‘He’ll be much safer in St Mungo’s.’

‘I don’t want him anywhere near magic,’ she hissed, and Remus remembered, suddenly, his father telling him that Acacia and Balfour Nott’s eldest daughter had run away with a Muggle. It had caused quite a scandal back in the day. Remus, who had known Balfour Nott as a close friend of his grandfather’s, privately thought she had done well to get away.  

‘And I especially don’t want him anywhere near the likes of _you_ , Lupin,’ she finished.

She had known his grandfather as well, then.

‘As you wish,’ said Remus, bowing to her, shutting the curtains around the bed and moving to the next patient, who had suffered severe burns all over his chest.

* * *

The light that slanted through a tiny gap in the majestic, sashed cream-coloured curtains woke him up the next morning. It glittered over his face, catching his eyelids, which fluttered open. Remus pushed himself up on his forearms, blinking about him in a dazed way, for a moment confused about where he was. Then he spotted a photograph of Valerie's family on the bedside table, the shockingly clear turquoise water of the Mediterranean Sea sparkling in the background.

The last images of a dream were tugging at his mind – flashes of clear grey eyes and the smell of burnt skin – but they faded when he tried to grasp them. He couldn't quite remember much of yesterday. After his shift at St Mungo's, which lasted well into the early hours of the morning, he'd planned to sleep at the apartment he still shared with Marlene, but he'd been so tired, he had Apparated into the foyer of Valerie's flat, undressed, and had fallen into bed.

The soft, silk sheets were bunched around his body and it took some effort to extricate himself from them. The room smelled faintly of Valerie's expensive, rose-scented perfume, but she didn't respond when he called her name, meaning she'd left already. He shaved and dressed lazily, and then made his way into the kitchen. Valerie's apartment came with a staff that lovingly tended to her every need. He suspected she had house-elves, but he'd never asked, and she'd never told.

When he entered the room, the table was laid with breakfast: toast, boiled eggs (which Valerie preferred), sausages. An abandoned cup of coffee stood on the table, smoking slightly, and Remus found a hastily scribbled note leaning against it. The kettle on the stove was still warm and he grabbed it thoughtlessly, his eyes scanning the parchment, which was filled with Valerie's minuscule, neat handwriting.

He hissed the moment the searing hot metal came in contact with his skin, burning it instantly. He swore when he drew his hand back, the parchment fluttering, half-read, to the floor. He hastily patted his back pocket for his wand, only to find that it wasn't there.

His eyes widened as his hand throbbed resentfully. Where had it gone?

* * *

‘A Healer losing their wand! Whatever next?’

The Healer – a tall, black-haired girl Remus had only spoken to a handful of times – had healed his burned hand without much effort, but had then launched into a lengthy lecture about his wand, which was nowhere to be found.

‘Listen, Martin.’ He held up a hand and she stopped talking, looking at him with narrowed eyes. ‘Thank you for your assistance.’

She looked cross. ‘Be sure to report your missing wand to the head of your department, Lupin.’

‘I will,’ said Remus. ‘I’m just going to check my apartment one more time to see if it’s there.’

Martin pursed her lips, but nodded to him, her dark skin only serving to highlight her round, brown eyes. She was quite pretty, in a way; Remus knew that Healer Rodgers fancied her immensely, like most of the other male Healers.  

‘Fine,’ she said, dismissing him.

* * *

He left the hospital with a sort of wariness he hadn’t felt in a while, wondering where on earth he’d put his wand. He’d never lost it before and he felt vulnerable without it, as if he would need it at any moment, and would be denied the opportunity due to his own stupidity. He had wondered for a brief moment whether Davina Boscowe had stolen it, but she’d left the hospital with her Muggle husband soon after their last meeting, after willingly allowing the Ministry to alter her husband’s memory.

No other victims of the crash had been quite as upset at his bedside manner, and most had been grateful to have their injuries magically tended to. The hospital had dealt with the crash efficiently, and Remus expected many assistant-Healers would be promoted over the next few weeks for their quick thinking.

As he stepped through the glass display, exiting the hospital, he found himself coming face to face with Sirius Black, who was stood across from him, leant against the wall between two shops. He was dressed in a white shirt and a pair of faded blue jeans. The summer breeze, hot and languid, blew his hair, which had grown to his shoulders, across his face, but he didn’t seem to mind, swiping it out of his eyes lazily. A leather jacket was slung over his shoulders.

For a moment, Remus found he had absolutely no idea what to do with himself.

Sirius spotted him, held up a hand in greeting, and walked over to him.

‘H’lo Lupin,’ he said, grinning handsomely. ‘Thought you might want this back.’

And he held up what was, unmistakably, Remus’s cypress wand.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I wrote most of this chapter while on holiday in France, only to come home a few days ago, and rewrite the entire thing because it wasn't what I needed it to be. Silly, really ♥


	9. Chapter 9

Remus paused for a moment, then reached out and took his wand gently, his fingers brushing softly against Sirius’s outstretched palm, which felt warm. He pocketed his wand, carefully, and then looked up at Sirius, who met his gaze with earnest, grey eyes. 

‘Where did you get this?’ Remus asked him, his tone a mixture of curiosity, admiration, and confusion.

Sirius’s only response was a shrug of his shoulders, the black leather of his jacket stretching over his skin. He lowered his outstretched hand and pushed it into the pocket of his jeans. Remus ignored this vague attempt at secrecy, and repeated his question, a hint of impatience seeping into his voice. 

Sirius merely smiled a smile that was maddeningly cheerful, yet charmingly innocent. Remus suspected it was a smile he wore often.

‘Fine,’ Remus said, trying to not sound as brassed off as he felt. ‘Thanks for returning it to me, Mr Black.’

Sirius’s grin faltered slightly at the formal tone of Remus’s voice, but seeing as they’d really only seen each other a handful of times, Remus didn’t know what Sirius expected him to say. They could hardly be described as friends. It didn’t matter that Sirius Black would always be one of the cases Remus would remember as long as he lived – it was just one of those things.

Remus, who realised an awkward silence had fallen between them, met Sirius’s eyes and smiled, then nodded politely and turned round, intending to make his way back to the apartment he still shared with Marlene, and enjoy what was left of his well-deserved day off.

He was half-way down the street, which was filled with the loud chatter of eager end-of-summer shoppers, when Sirius appeared at his side, having run over from where Remus had left him. Remus, whose thoughts had been occupied with trying to figure out how on earth Sirius had managed to swipe his wand without him noticing, only registered he was there when he spoke.

‘I thought we might get lunch,’ said Sirius, would-be-casually.

Remus, shocked out of his thoughts, could only stare at him.

Sirius looked hopeful, all sixteen-year-old brightness, his smile wide and open.

Remus shook his head, confused, and then said, ‘I don’t think so, Mr Black.’

Sirius’s face fell almost comically, and Remus was more than surprised to find his face displayed emotions so openly. It was a far cry from whenever Remus had treated Sirius in hospital; Sirius’s face had usually been unreadable, then. Remus wondered vaguely whether he had ever really known Sirius well at all.

‘Why not?’ Sirius demanded.

Remus rounded on him, feeling extremely old and tired all of a sudden. ‘First off,’ he said, matter-of-factly, sounding rather like he was composing an article for _Challenges in Charming_ than having an actual conversation, ‘you are my patient and I am your Healer, Mr Black. Having lunch with you would not only be highly inappropriate, it would be against the rules.’

Sirius opened his mouth, probably to respond with a scathing comment about those very rules, but Remus continued before he could say something, ‘And secondly, because I think it’s a spectacularly bad idea.’

At this, Sirius’s face displayed a flicker of amusement that could be read in the corner of his mouth, which twitched up, revealing a dimple in his cheek that Remus had never seen before. Today was a day of firsts.

‘Why?’ Sirius asked, his tone cheeky. ‘Afraid I might kiss you again?’

Remus stopped walking, feeling his eyebrows knit themselves into a frown. He had tried his very best not to dwell on the kiss, if only because Sirius was so very, very young, and it had been so very, very inappropriate. They hadn’t spoken of it – Remus had barely acknowledged it when it had happened, even – and it felt out of place in this conversation which, Remus realised, was inappropriate in and of itself.  

‘Mr Black,’ he said, ‘I apologise for what transpired between us a few months back. I realise it was entirely inappropriate.’

‘‘S all right. I kissed you,’ Sirius interrupted, with a shrug of his shoulders.

Remus’s headache increased in pressure and thumped painfully, unexpectedly blurring his vision. It did that, sometimes. Remus clenched his eyes shut out of reflex, waiting for it to pass. Sirius’s face, which blurred back into focus when he opened his eyes, was streaked with worry, and he was stood very close to Remus.

‘All right?’ he asked, softly. His hand was hovering close to Remus’s arm, and Remus wondered for a moment if he’d been swaying on his feet.

‘Headache,’ Remus supplied, taking a step back. ‘I’m going to get home. Sorry,’ he added, not really knowing what he was apologising for.

‘I’ll take you,’ Sirius volunteered, Gryffindor chivalry shining through clearly in the words.

Remus’s shook his head in resignation, realising there was little he could do to stop him. The rest of his surroundings swam into focus as the pressure in his head decreased, and he could see clearly again. They fell quiet as they continued, and after only a few minutes, Remus began to recognise the whitewashed carriage houses and sashed windows that made up the beginning of his street.  

He felt Sirius’s grey eyes scrutinizing his face.

‘Really, I’m quite alright,’ he said, firmly.

Sirius made no response.

They had reached the black-painted door that led up to the first-floor flat he shared with Marlene, so Remus stopped walking, rather abruptly. There was a slightly comical moment in which Sirius, who had walked on, noticed Remus hadn't followed, and had to double back. In the meantime, Remus had fished his keys out of his coat pocket and had opened the door that led into his flat. He turned to face Sirius with one hand cradled protectively around the door handle.

‘Thank you, Mr Black,’ he said, kindly.

Sirius, catching the dismissal in his tone, looked absurdly crestfallen. His mouth twisted downwards and his grey eyes glowed brightly, resentfully, in Remus’s direction. Remus realised, for the first time, that Sirius Black was just a child, and his clumsy invitation to lunch had probably been his way of saying thank you for all the help Remus had given him over the years.

In short, Remus was being an absolute shit.

‘Why don’t you come in for a cup of tea before you go,’ he said, stepping aside, wondering what on earth he was doing.

The smile Sirius gave him was blindingly beautiful.

* * *

Remus led the way up the stairs that led to his flat, Sirius walking quietly behind him. When they reached the door to the flat, Remus opened it with the keys, and stepped aside, motioning for Sirius to go in first. By the time Remus stepped into the flat after him, Sirius had already made his way into the living room. He’d hung his leather jacket on the coat rack and had neatly toed his shoes off. They stood neatly next to Marlene’s bright red heels. Remus took off his own coat and shoes, and tossed them with far less care on the rack, which swayed, teeter-tottering dangerously for a moment.

Sirius’s feet were bare and seemed rather large as he stepped gracefully around the coffee table that stood in front of the sofa, and made his way to the bookcase, which took up most of the blue living room. Remus watched Sirius still as he studied the books, his broad shoulders pulling the fabric of his thin white shirt tight. For a moment, he wondered if he should say something, but thought better of it, and made his way into the kitchen, instead. He found the kettle, which Marlene had put away in one of the large pots Alice had left behind, and filled it with water.

‘Are all of these yours?’ Sirius asked, his polite tone drifting into the kitchen.

Remus lit the stove and put on the kettle. ‘Most of them,’ he answered, walking back into the living room. When he came to stand next to Sirius, he saw that Sirius’s hand was stroking the spine of a set of gilded books about pureblood wizarding genealogy he’d been given as a Christmas gift by his grandparents. They were, possibly, the most expensive thing he owned.

‘Found them a bit backwards,’ he admitted, softly, and Sirius turned to him, a faint grin on his face.

‘They are.’

The kettle chose that moment to whistle furiously, and Remus returned to the kitchen, lifting it gently off the stove and pouring the boiling water into two mugs he’d grabbed from the cabinet.

‘Milk or sugar?’ he asked over his shoulder and was surprised when Sirius, instead of standing in front of his bookcase, answered him while being sat on the kitchen table, his hands bunched in the off-white table cloth. Remus hadn't even heard him move. ‘No, thank you.’

‘All right,’ Remus responded, dropping sugar into his own tea, and sitting down in the seat furthest from Sirius. Sirius grinned at him properly, and slid off the table easily, slumping into a seat. Remus realised, not soon after that, that he had no idea what to say next.

Sirius, however, had no such qualms. ‘Live here on your own?’ he asked.

Remus shrugged vaguely. ‘Not really. I share it with one of my best friends, but I’m usually at Valerie’s.’

Sirius studied him quietly. ‘Girlfriend,’ he guessed.

Remus nodded, wondering why he’d felt the urge to bring her into the conversation, all of a sudden. Maybe to allow himself the illusion that he had some control left; that he wasn’t just completely confused and useless.

‘Figured you’d be married and have a couple of kids,’ Sirius said, in response.

Remus choked on his tea, the bitterness of the black tea stinging his throat. He coughed, putting the mug back on the table, and could form no response for a moment. When he looked up, he found Sirius grinning at him teasingly, having obviously read him perfectly.

Remus had been right: this had been a spectacularly bad idea. He opened his mouth to say as much but was interrupted by the loud, unexpected crack of Apparition and Marlene’s voice ringing out from the living room.

‘Remus?’ she called, a note of worry in her voice, and Remus responded with a croak, his throat still stinging.

She appeared in the doorway of the kitchen, her lime green Healer robes swirling around her. ‘Martin said you showed up with your hand full of second degree burn blisters and no wand.’

Sirius looked up at him sharply, having apparently not been privy to this information.

Remus wondered, for the umpteenth time, when on earth Sirius had managed to swipe his wand. He hadn't even _seen_ him around St Mungo's. 'Found my wand,' he answered, finally, but Marlene was looking at Sirius and didn't reply. Sirius was looking back at her impassively, looking very much as if he wanted to say something, but he didn't. Marlene's eyes narrowed, and then she turned to Remus.

She raised her eyebrows, and Remus realised, with a jolt, that she would recognise Sirius from Alice’s New Year’s party, and would wonder what on earth he was doing here. He also wondered, perhaps unfairly, if Alice had told her anything.

‘Sirius was the one who found my wand,’ Remus corrected himself. ‘He returned it to me. So I asked him up for tea.’

Marlene looked at him incredulously, her face unbelieving. She didn’t look at Sirius, who was staring into his mug with an unreadable, guarded expression on his face. He looked, for all the world, as if they were back in the hospital, and Mrs Black was breathing down his neck. Remus tried to keep his face impassive as he looked back at Marlene, but it was hard, because she knew him quite well.

‘As long as you’re sure you’re all right,’ she said, eventually.

‘Fine. Just a headache,’ Remus responded, dismissively.

Marlene frowned. ‘You’ve been having a lot of those lately.’

Remus pulled a face, but didn’t respond, because there wasn’t much he could say to that. He hadn’t really been paying much attention to the frequency of his headaches, if he was being perfectly honest. They just happened every once a while.

Marlene looked at him for a moment longer, but knew that she wasn’t going to get anywhere, so she dropped it. ‘I’ve got to get back to work,’ she said, finally. ‘Enjoy your tea.’ She gestured vaguely at the table, and then turned on her heel and made her way out to the living room, where she would Apparate back to St Mungo’s.

‘Nice robes, McKinnon,’ Sirius shouted after her, unexpectedly.

Marlene turned round and, uncharacteristically, raised her middle finger at him, before Disapparating with a sharp crack.

‘She’s James’s cousin,’ Sirius offered, even though Remus hadn’t asked. ‘She hates me.’

Remus could only look at him, surprised.

* * *

In the end, Sirius stayed long after the tea was finished.

Remus was surprised to find that he didn’t run out of things to say, as he thought he might. Eventually, they had moved into the living room, where they were still sat, across from each other on the comfortable, blue sofa. Sirius talked with his hands, expressively, and his hair had a habit of falling into his eyes when he was telling a particularly riveting story. His laugh was warm and comfortable, and it was quick to ring out, bark-like, when he entertained Remus with stories of some scandalous prank he’d pulled.

At moments, he was sixteen, eyes young and mouth eager, like when Remus told him of a particularly tricky Healing Charm that required immense concentration. Other times, he was very old and haughty-sounding, like when he told Remus of the time he’d met his father at Gringotts, and the older man had ignored him entirely, pretending he didn’t exist at all.

Right now, however, he looked spectacularly tired. His elbow was leant against the sagging sofa pillows, his head resting on his hand, and his eyes were drooping. Remus glanced at his watch and realised it was nearing two in the morning.

‘Time for bed, I think,’ he said.

Sirius’s eyes looked at him sleepily, accusingly, but he yawned obligingly, sitting up straight and stretching his hands, his knuckles cracking awfully.

Remus winced at the sound. ‘Come on,’ he said, standing up. ‘I’ll take you back to the Potters.’

Sirius scrubbed a hand over his face, and then turned to him. ‘Don’t worry about it, Lupin,’ he said, his voice hazy and low. ‘I can Apparate.’

‘You’re sixteen,’ Remus said, in surprise.

Sirius shrugged, but didn’t offer a response, moving past Remus and up off the sofa. He walked past the coffee table, which was filled with empty cups of tea and remnants of the simple omelette Remus had made for dinner (Sirius had assured him that he was very impressed with his cooking skills). Sirius paused, suddenly, at the door of Remus’s bedroom, which stood slightly open.

‘Yours?’ Sirius asked.

Remus nodded, slowly.

Sirius gave a careful, somehow guarded smile, tilting his chin up in acknowledgement of Remus's answer. Then he moved past the door towards the coat rack. He found his leather jacket and his shoes, and slipped them both on with effortless ease.

‘I’ll see you around, Lupin,’ Sirius said, rounding on him.

‘Remus,’ Remus said.

‘Remus,’ Sirius agreed, and Remus didn’t know why he was so very surprised when he gave a cheeky little wave, turned on the spot, and Disapparated with a sharp crack that rang out through the empty flat.

Marlene hadn't come home. Remus sank back down on the sofa, leaning his head back against the pillows. He was in so, so much trouble.

 


	10. Chapter 10

He woke to darkness, unexpectedly, the heavy sting of a headache brimming behind his eyes. Drowsy with sleep, he forced his eyes open, and flung out an arm. He missed the nightstand on his first try, but then his fingers clasped around the strap of his wristwatch and he held it close to his face, the hands blurring into view. It was only five o’clock.

The warmth of summer had faded into an unexpectedly autumnal September. This, combined with the fact that he seemed to have misplaced the necessary winter coats and scarves, meant that when October melted into a wet and cold November, he’d already been on the receiving end of several colds, which required a handful of Pepper-Up Potions to chase away.

He let out a deep sigh, but tossed the covers aside, gingerly lowering his feet upon the wooden floor, which was pleasantly warm. He pushed aside the sashed cream-coloured curtains and found the sky cloudless and misty, barely concealing the last hazy red-purple rays of the sunrise, which faded into a bleak grey. Behind him, the silk sheets rustled, and then Valerie was stood next to him, resting her head on his shoulder.

‘Couldn’t sleep?’ she asked, her voice small and child-like.

‘I didn’t mean to wake you,’ Remus said, leaning his head against hers.

Valerie and he would be hosting their families for Christmas this year. One evening, over dinner, she’d suggested as much, looking up at him with questioning eyes. Remus had stared at her in stunned silence, the gulp of wine he’d just taken feeling suddenly sour in his mouth. In the end, Remus acquiesced in her decision, if only because she seemed so enthusiastic about the idea.

Since that conversation, Valerie had thrown herself into planning the party, sparing no expense. Although she’d never asked Remus for any money before, he thought it was only polite if he contributed. Most of the money he earned was spent on food, expensive wine, and lavish Christmas decorations, including a large tree in the formal dining room and two other, smaller ones, lit up with fairy lights and shining silver and green baubles.

Despite being an excellent cook herself, Valerie had chosen to have the party catered by one of her favourite restaurants. They were even to have servers, who would be walking around with ornate silver trays she’d shown Remus just the day before. They were expecting about seventy people to show up at Valerie’s flat and even though she had never hosted such a large party before, she didn’t ask Remus to help with anything, dealing with everything herself, meticulous and capable.

His headache, meanwhile, had dimmed in its ferocity, tucking itself neatly at the back of his head. He had difficulty keeping his eyes open, and he let the curtains fall, plunging the room, again, into darkness.

‘You didn’t wake me,’ Valerie said, softly. ‘I’ve been awake for a while. Just thinking.’

‘Everything all right?’ he asked.

‘Yes, darling,’ she responded, kissing his cheek. Her floor-length nightgown was powdery blue and filmy, and he could feel the outline of her body pressed against his own. ‘It’s just work. Breakfast?’

‘Okay,’ Remus responded, his headache and her sleeplessness forgotten, and took her proffered hand, following her out of the bedroom.

* * *

‘So, Remus, should I be expecting the announcement soon?’ Marlene asked him at lunch, a few weeks later.

The three of them – Alice, Marlene and he – had been talking about the recent development of Containment Charms over lunch. Although the Charms were meant to be used to contain matter in a space, Remus had argued that they could, with some tweaking, perhaps be adjusted to work with certain hereditary wizarding diseases, although he would need the Ministry’s permission to start experimenting. And then Marlene had come out with that question, out of the blue.

‘Pardon?’ Remus asked, bewildered.

‘The big fancy party for your family and Valerie’s?’ Marlene pressed.

Remus blinked at her. ‘I don’t know –’

She laughed, clapping him on the shoulder, interrupting his thoughts. ‘Don’t think too hard, Lupin, you’ll hurt yourself.’

The wand in her hand vibrated, then, summoning her back to work. Her lime green robes swirled as she stood up, the fabric brushing softly against Remus’s arm. Marlene had only been promoted at the beginning of the summer, and she said the collar of the robes still stuck to her skin oddly. When she left, Alice smiled at her and returned her wave.

‘What is she on about?’ Remus asked her.

Alice turned to face him and then gave a smile, her soft, rose-coloured lips quirking at the edges. 'Your engagement to Valerie, I expect,' she said, eventually, carefully.

‘My _what_?’ Remus demanded, but Alice’s wand was already buzzing, and she gave an apologetic murmur that wasn’t really a reply, leaving him sat alone at the table by himself, annoyance tight in his stomach. The wrapping of the sandwich he’d bought in the Staff’s Tea Room glinted under the soft yellow light that filled the room, and made a thin, plasticky sound as he crumpled it.

The thing was, it hadn’t been the first time that conversation had come up. When he ran into one of his mother’s friends in Diagon Alley, he’d received a similar inquiry, heavily veiled but unmistakable. Apparently, after you’d dated someone for four years, people expected you to be sensible and get married. He hadn’t mentioned the encounter to Valerie, given the way she had acted whenever the subject had been broached in the past. And if she’d received similar comments from anyone, she certainly hadn’t mentioned it to him.

And, if he were perfectly honest, he didn’t really think he was the marrying type. He liked being with Valerie, but that didn’t necessarily mean he was ready to settle down with her, move into a home, and have tons of children. There was also, he thought warily, the subject of Sirius. He didn’t know how the boy had become part of the equation but his presence was, unmistakably, there, because of the strange relationship they had formed.

Not that they’d spoken at all over the last few months. Hogwarts had started again, and he presumed Sirius had mostly forgotten about him. His debt had been repaid: he told Remus that he wasn’t speaking to his family any longer (not even Regulus, although Sirius didn’t care to expand upon the reasons why), that he had no interest in filing a report because he wasn’t permanently scarred, or anything (his words, not Remus’s); and had insisted that _really,_ he was _fine_. So Remus had accepted this, because there was little else he could do. He didn’t realise he’d come to feel so protective of Sirius until the boy showed him that there was nothing he needed protection for; he had managed on his own, with some help from Remus, and that was that.

Despite this, Remus couldn’t help but think back, sometimes, to that summer afternoon. It had been a very long time since he’d felt so comfortable with someone the way he had felt with Sirius, and he couldn’t quite understand it. He was about half Remus’s age, and yet he was smart, and interested, and hadn’t laughed when Remus had confessed, softly, that he’d always dreamed of opening his own practice. Instead, he’d looked up at Remus with a bright smile, and had told him he couldn’t think of anything that suited him more.

He didn’t know what their afternoon had meant. Perhaps they were friends, now. Or acquaintances, who got to know each other under strange circumstances. Neither of them had brought up the kiss. Privately, Remus thought it was meant as a thank you, because however short it had been, it had also been desperate and hard, as if Sirius could not say anything with words, but everything with that kiss. He sometimes, irrationally, felt sorry for Sirius, who must have felt so very alone for so long. But he was good, he was safe at Hogwarts, with his friend James Potter, and their afternoon had ended on a polite note. It was out of Remus’s hands, now.

Presently, Remus got up and made his way to his office, feeling suddenly very tired. The party would be later today, Christmas Eve. Valerie had decided to host it a day early, so they could spend Christmas by themselves. Remus was looking forward to just being with her, alone, and preferably with a book and some tea. He often felt that there was something comforting in tea.

As he tapped the door to his office, which recognised his magical signature and opened dutifully, he found, inexplicably, Valerie there. She was neatly dressed in a set of mauve, tailored robes that complimented her white blond hair.

‘Darling,’ she said, when she spotted him, with an enormous smile. ‘I’m so sorry to disturb you at work.’ She kissed him on the cheek. There was something formidable about her today, which somehow put Remus on edge. ‘I haven’t heard from your grandparents yet. Are you sure they’re coming to the party?’

‘I think so,’ Remus responded, slightly weary. He wondered, not for the first time, if she wasn’t fussing too much about this party. It was all they had spoken about for weeks, now; everything else seemed unimportant in comparison. He walked over to his desk. ‘They told my parents they would attend.’

‘Would you be a dear and check for me, please?’ she said, her tone gentle but persuasive. When he looked up at her, his eyebrows raised, she smiled charmingly.

‘Fine,’ he sighed. ‘I’ll let you know.’

She smiled. ‘Thank you, you’re a star. I’ll see you tonight.’

Remus hummed noncommittally, holding a hand up in greeting as she left his office, the door falling shut behind her. He turned and glanced outside at the sky, which was bitterly grey, and thought, suddenly, of Sirius. He sighed and leaned his head against the window, feeling the cold glass against his skin.

* * *

He left the hospital early, wanting to help Valerie with some last minute preparations, but when he Apparated into the foyer, he realised there was no need. The flat was magnificent. It was decorated in tones of green and red and gold, the Christmas trees Valerie had insisted on getting lit up by fairy lights in the living room and the formal dining room, which blinked in the easy warm light that the fireplace emitted.

The whole flat smelled of cinnamon, cider, something sharp Remus couldn’t quite put his finger on, and of roasted turkey. As he made his way to the bedroom, lazily tugging off his robes, he realised there was a record playing, the female singer breathily whispering out words in a dark voice Remus had never heard before.

‘Valerie,’ he said.

Startled, she whirled around, the perfume she had just put on falling down into the empty air where her face had previously been. She was wearing an elegantly tailored robe of the brightest blue. Her hair fell in waves over her shoulders, and the earrings he’d given her on their first Christmas together gleamed in her ears.

She was breathtaking.

‘Remus,’ she said. ‘You’re home early.’

‘Thought you might need help with the decorations,’ Remus mumbled, feeling a bit like an idiot, gesturing behind him. ‘Clearly not.’

She laughed, not unkindly, and sprayed on her perfume. It filled the room with the hazy scent of orchids and plums. ‘Nonetheless, I appreciate the sentiment. It’s not often they let you off early.’

‘No,’ Remus agreed, folding his robes neatly and putting them on the bed. ‘I’ll just take a shower, then.’

She smiled at him, and winked before he shut the bathroom door.

* * *

He'd met most of Valerie's family members over the years. She was an only child, like he was, but her father had four married brothers; their wives and children had been invited, and Remus was currently speaking to the eldest brother and one of his daughters, a beautiful girl of about two.

‘Would you like some more?’ Remus asked, having gotten down on his knees, where he could look the girl in the eye. She pressed herself more eagerly into her father’s legs, but nodded.

Remus smiled at her, motioning a nearby waiter, who dutifully handed him a slice of brioche and some chicken liver pâté, which Remus then held out to the girl. At her father’s direction, she sat down on a nearby chair and ate it cautiously, her eyes large and brown.

‘You’re wonderful with children,’ the man, whose name Remus had forgotten, said. ‘When did you say you were planning on getting married to Valerie?’

‘Ah, well,’ Remus said, not for the first time that night, ‘we’re not planning on anything soon.’

The man blinked at him, shocked. ‘Preposterous,’ he said, eventually, his nostrils flaring. ‘Surely, you’re aware you’re being inappropriate. I realise your family hasn’t been in the proper pureblood circles for some time, but usually, engagements are announced within a year of courting.’

Remus, who felt his temper rise, was spared a response when Valerie appeared at his side. ‘Uncle Edmund! How divine of you to come!’ she crowed, kissing him soundly on both cheeks. Then, Valerie spun on her feet and exclaimed, in a loud, commanding tone, ‘Dinner is served, if you would all follow me into the dining room.’

* * *

It was now after twelve, and Valerie was showing the last of their guests to the door. Currently he was in the kitchen, looking over the bill the snooty chef who had been in charge of the food had presented him with. It was enormous, and Remus felt something icy drop in his stomach when he signed the parchment which promised he would deposit four months of pay into the restaurant’s Gringotts vault. The parchment glowed to indicate the transfer being a success.

‘Thank you very much for tonight,’ he said, looking up at the man, manners not forgotten. ‘The food was truly spectacular.’

The man smiled dully, rolling up the parchment. ‘Thank you, Mr Lupin. Our warmest regards to Miss Glassborow.’

Remus nodded, and watched as the man, and his staff, Disapparated with sharp cracks out of the kitchen. He turned and left the kitchen, following the scent of Valerie’s hazy perfume through the now empty flat. He ended in the bedroom, where she was stood, undressing with uncharacteristic anger and disregard to her clothes. The earrings he’d given her were lying, abandoned, near a bedpost.

Remus picked them up, and glanced up at her, frowning.

She noticed him, then stilled, her robe pooling neatly at her feet, revealing the dress underneath.

‘What a _disaster_ ,’ she breathed, angrily.

Remus blinked. ‘I thought it had gone well?’

‘ _Well_?’ she demanded, and Remus got a glimpse of the Valerie he rarely saw, the woman who ran the _Daily Prophet_ with a certain degree of ruthlessness and perfectionism that was unparalleled. That side of her only came out as they were about to have a spectacular argument. Suddenly, he felt tired. ‘Were you at the same party I was?’

‘I think so,’ he said, coolly. ‘My parents were delighted.’

‘I’m glad they were!’ she snapped. ‘Mine kept asking when the hell you were planning on proposing! My grandmother hugged me and spent twenty minutes giving me tips on how to best combat morning sickness, because she thought I was _pregnant_!’

She spat out the last word as if it tasted foul in her mouth. Remus said nothing.

‘All this work, all this planning,’ she said, undoing the fastenings on her dress, which fell to the floor. He blinked at that and she looked disgusted with him, pulling on a silk robe Remus had never seen before to cover up her body. ‘And all people talk about is you and weddings and babies. _Honestly_ ,’ she added, angrily.

Remus, who really wasn’t in the mood for the fight she was obviously angling for, sighed wearily and then headed into the bathroom.

‘Well?’ she demanded. ‘Aren’t you going to say anything?’

‘What do you want me to say?’ Remus asked, with a calmness that seemed to infuriate her further. ‘We both decided we weren’t going to get married just yet. I can’t control what people ask about our relationship.’

She glared at him, her mouth twisted down, and then suddenly, the anger seemed to whoosh out of her, and she sat down on the bed. ‘It’s just,’ she said, so quietly Remus had to strain to hear her, ‘that I’m so tired of people seeing us, instead of me.’

He finished brushing his teeth, and then leaned against the doorway of the bathroom, his arms crossed as he looked at her. He had known, somehow, that this was going to happen one day. His relationship with Valerie had always been different. They were companions, friends, and they had both been very content to remain that way, distant, but not unaffectionate. Valerie would make him a wonderful wife, he knew that, beautiful and social and smart as she was, and yet, the subject had never been broached naturally. He had been satisfied, simply being with her. After all, his parents’ marriage wasn’t made up of much more. And yet, it had always seemed like she wanted something he couldn’t give.   

She looked very young and small sitting on the bed, her face clean of make-up and her hair loosely braided. ‘Tomorrow, we have a shoot in New York. I’m going. I need some time to think. When I come back, we can discuss where we stand,’ she said, thoughtfully.

He was quiet, for a while. ‘Would you like me to leave?’ he asked, eventually.

‘No,’ she shook her head. ‘Somehow, I expected you to be mad,’ she added, smiling thinly.

Remus shook his head. ‘I care for you, Valerie,’ he said, simply, making his way over to the bed and sliding under the sheets.

‘I care for you, too,’ she said softly, turning off the lights with a wave of her wand, and getting into the bed with him. She turned on her side, her back to him. ‘Goodnight,’ she said.

‘Goodnight,’ Remus echoed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks very much for your lovely comments and kudos ♥ They make me so happy!


	11. Chapter 11

Around midday, Remus Apparated, with a sharp crack, into the living room of the flat he shared with Marlene.

‘ _Shit!_ ’ Marlene’s said, and Remus looked up to the sofa, from where her voice had come, and then, somehow, froze, because Marlene was very, very naked. Although her face was turned to look at him over her shoulder, he could only see her back and her black hair, which was loose and covered her shoulders. She was sitting on something, her knees spread slightly wider than usual.

‘What are you doing here?’ she snapped, and he opened his mouth to respond when she made a frustrated sound in the back of her throat. ‘Shut up. Don’t. Just turn around, will you?’

He did, hearing a slightly hysterical giggle from someone that wasn’t Marlene, and the rustle of clothes and blankets.

‘Fine. We’re decent,’ came Marlene’s voice from behind him, and he turned round, coming face to face with Marlene and Healer Martin, the woman who’d healed his burned hand. Her face was flushed, her hair tousled. She was covered with a blanket, and Marlene had hastily pulled her Healer robes back on.  

‘What are you doing here?’ Marlene said again, but it was softer this time, when she took in his face. ‘I thought you were going to spend Christmas with Valerie?’

Remus shrugged noncommittally. ‘Kicked you out, did she?’ Marlene said, perceptively.

‘She left for New York,’ was all Remus said. ‘I’m going to make some tea. Martin?’ he prompted.

Jo Martin, her dark skin making a beautiful contrast against Marlene’s ivory one, as they were sat shoulder to shoulder, shook her head, smiling at him shyly. He shrugged again, then turned on his heel, heading towards the kitchen. He’d known, of course, that Marlene had had a new girlfriend, as she’d hardly ever been at the flat and kept staying away for the night, but she hadn’t said who it was, and he hadn’t asked.

He remembered, clearly, the conversation he’d had with her. They’d been talking about some girl Remus fancied, but didn’t dare to ask out, too shy at fifteen. ‘I have to tell you something,’ she’d said, and then she’d sat up a little straighter in her chair, her Charms essay forgotten in front of her. ‘And I’m not sure how you’re going to react.’

‘Okay,’ Remus had said, not really sure where this was going.

‘I might – like girls,’ she’d said. ‘Like _you_ like girls.’

Remus had stared at her, her whole body drawn taut, as if she was almost demanding him to disagree. He then said, ‘Oh, okay.’

She’d looked at him imploringly.

‘Er,’ he’d continued, ‘I don’t mind. If that’s what you’re asking. Did you think I would?’

‘I don’t know,’ she’d said. ‘But thanks.’

‘For what?’ Remus had asked, his nose already buried in a Charms book in front of her, and then she’d laughed, and that had been that.

Currently, he took two mugs of tea into the living room. Marlene and Jo had gotten dressed and were sitting on the sofa as if nothing had happened. And really, Remus reasoned, as he put the tea in front of Marlene, nothing really had.

‘Sorry about that,’ Remus said.

‘Don’t worry,’ Marlene said, waving her hand loftily. ‘Does ruin our plans a little bit, though, you being here.’

‘Sorry,’ Remus said, again.

‘We could go to my flat,’ Martin said softly, nudging Marlene.

Marlene looked at her, surprised for a moment, but then smiled, immediately abandoning her tea. ‘Sounds like an excellent idea. You don’t mind, do you, Remus?’ she asked, courteously.

‘Of course not,’ Remus said, because he didn’t. ‘You go ahead and enjoy your Christmas.’

‘Excellent,’ said Marlene, grabbing Martin’s hand. ‘Happy Christmas, Remus.’

‘Happy Christmas, Marlene,’ Remus said, fondly. ‘Happy Christmas, Martin.’

‘Thanks Lupin,’ she said, and Marlene Disapparated the two of them from the living room with a sharp crack. The tea she’d left on the coffee table stood, smoking softly. Remus leant back in the armchair he was sitting in, closing his eyes. To be honest, he was glad to be rid of Marlene and Jo. He wouldn’t be the best of company today. He’d woken up to find Valerie already gone, the flat still smelling faintly of cinnamon, and he’d dressed, had breakfast, and left her a vague note about hoping she’d had a good trip (to be read when she returned) and take however long she needed. Then he’d Disapparated.

He briefly considered contacting Alice, but she’d be spending Christmas with the Longbottoms. And going to his parents was out of the question, because they would demand what on earth was going on with him and Valerie, questions he’d rather avoid, if he could help it. So it would be Christmas, alone.

He couldn’t remember if that had ever happened before.

* * *

By the time it was eleven o'clock, Remus was feeling dazed and slightly off-kilter. The bottle of wine he'd opened, which had been left over from the party, was half-empty. It had a slightly fruity aftertaste, which he didn't really care for much, but he'd taken it, alongside some of his clothes, from Valerie's flat, nonetheless. He'd eaten almost nothing, because Marlene wasn't very good about doing the shopping on time, and there were only eggs and leftover chocolate. So he wasn't drunk.

Yet.

He was sat on the sofa, looking up at the ceiling, sucking thoughtfully on a chocolate bonbon, and wondered if it would be stupid to open his gifts all by himself. He tilted his head forward and looked outside the kitchen window, which showed it was dark, and raining. It seemed like an accurate reflection of his mood. Suddenly deciding that he would just get on with it, he slid off the sofa in a rather uncaring manner, and plopped himself down in front of the Christmas tree, its lights sparkling dutifully in the empty room. There was no question of his presents not being here; even if he would have celebrated with Valerie, he would've come and picked them up. This flat was still his official address, for all intents and purposes.

The first present he unwrapped was from Valerie, who had given him a beautifully bound book by his favourite author. She’d written a lovely note on the first page, which said she cared about him very much. Remus wondered, perhaps a bit nastily, when she’d written that exactly. Nonetheless, it had been a thoughtful gift, and he put it on the coffee table.

He’d thought a lot of Valerie today. He wasn’t sure what would happen when she returned. He’d probably marry her, if she wanted to, and then maybe have children. Would he even want children? He didn’t really know. She’d probably want to have at least one. One he could probably do. As long as it was a boy. He thought of Alice, who had married for love. It didn’t seem like something that usually happened. Pureblood marriages, as far as he knew, were simply marriages of convenience, not of emotion. He wondered, vaguely, if that was such a bad thing.

He scrubbed at his face, trying to forcibly quiet his thoughts. He’d never admit it out loud to anyone, but he had been feeling a bit off lately; sometimes, his thoughts didn’t really feel like his own, dark and slightly twisted. He didn’t think anyone had really noticed. He poured himself another glass of wine, and settled himself down in front of the tree again.

His next gift was from Alice and Marlene, who had pooled their money and given him a bottle of expensive cologne, and a handwritten note signed by both of them, telling them they missed him, and they would see him soon. Remus smiled, and put the cologne on the table, next to Valerie’s book. His parents gave him a scarf his mother had lovingly knitted, which was the same colour of his eyes, and a warm note giving their regards to him and Valerie. There was, fortunately, no mention of marriage or babies.

There were no other presents labelled with his name, so he started to try and get up, when he spotted it. It was a small envelope, which had his name across the front in slanted, curled handwriting he’d never seen before. He opened it, pulling out a Christmas card that showed a snowy roof and a big, bearded Santa, who remarkably resembled Albus Dumbledore, climbing into a chimney with a teetering stack of presents. As he watched, the Santa climbed further and further down, and then popped back onto the roof without presents, smiling up at him broadly. A tiny speech bubble appeared next to him. The words inside read ‘ _Happy Christmas!’_

Remus furrowed his brow. What on earth? He folded open the card, which was filled with the same neat, curled handwriting as the envelope.

_Dear Remus,_

_Thanks for letting me into your flat that one time and giving me tea (and that really awful omelette)_. _That was decent of you, especially after I stole your wand, and all. Sorry about that, by the way. Bet you’re still wondering how I managed to swipe it, though, aren’t you?_

_I’m doing really all right, by the way. You kept asking, so I thought I’d let you know._

_Happy Christmas,_

_Sirius Black_

Remus laughed and then stood up, a bit shakily. The Santa on the front had disappeared again, taking the presents with him, and Remus put the card down, closed, on top of the book he’d gotten from Valerie. He hadn’t expected Sirius to think of him, but he was somehow very glad he did. He shook his head. He’d known Sirius was lying about his cooking that time; his insistence that the omelette had been fine had come just a little bit too fast. And yes, he did really wonder how Sirius had managed to swipe his wand, completely unseen. Maybe one day, he’d tell Remus.

He glanced at his wristwatch, which told him it was half twelve. That was good, then. That meant Christmas was almost over. He put away his presents, and took off his sweater, which was itchy and slightly uncomfortable. He thought he’d better see if he could scrounge up some dinner, to soak up some of the wine. The bottle was closer to being empty now. He was usually someone who could hold his alcohol well, but things did start to feel slightly blurry around the edges.  

He made his way to the kitchen and found, surprisingly, some chicken in the fridge, which he must’ve overlooked when he rummaged around earlier, and then some tinned vegetables in one of the cupboards. He lit the stove and opened the window, ever so slightly, to make sure that the whole flat wouldn’t smell. He was halfway through peeling potatoes when there was a sharp crack that came from the living room, startling him.

He grabbed his wand, stopping it from peeling the potatoes with a flick of his wrist, and turned, going into the living room.

‘Sorry,’ came Sirius’s voice, and he was grinning, stood in the middle of Remus’s living room in a thick winter cloak, covered in snow.

Remus stared.

Sirius’s grin widened, as if he was mighty pleased with himself, and then he sniffed the air around him. ‘What are you cooking?’

‘Chicken,’ Remus responded, lowering his wand. ‘What are you – aren’t you supposed to be at school?’

‘Snuck out,’ Sirius said, matter-of-factly, shrugging off his cloak and folding it, neatly, over the sofa. He was wearing a simple white oxford shirt, of which the top two buttons were undone, and a pair of black trousers underneath.

Remus had no idea what to say.

‘Just thought I’d ask if you got my card,’ Sirius prompted. He seemed suddenly a bit nervous, his hands shaking just slightly. Although that could’ve just been Remus’s imagination, because Sirius had then pushed them into his pockets, and he couldn’t properly tell.

Remus grinned despite himself. ‘I did.’

Sirius returned his grin, his shoulders sagging slightly, as if in relief. At that moment, Remus remembered his chicken, and turned on his heel, heading back into the kitchen. He hadn’t heard Sirius follow him in, but then he wasn’t surprised when he turned and Sirius was sat on the kitchen table, grinning broadly at him.

‘You should really be at school,’ Remus said, gently.

Sirius shrugged. ‘James is off trying to shag Evans again and Petey’s at home. I was bored.’

Peter would be Sirius’s other friend, although Remus used the term loosely; Sirius seemed to tolerate him more than like him. And Evans was the girl that James fancied, if Remus remembered correctly from some of the stories Sirius had told him. She was in their year. ‘She made Head Girl,’ Sirius added, sounding annoyed.

Remus turned off the stove, putting some chicken onto a plate, and grabbed some cutlery. He turned to Sirius with a question on his lips, but Sirius shook his head. He had gotten off the table and was standing really close to Remus, his grey eyes brimming with something Remus couldn’t read.

‘I already had dinner.’

 _I probably shouldn’t be here offering him dinner_ , Remus thought. _I should be sending him back to school, where he belongs_.

Sirius really was standing quite close, his body almost pressed against Remus’s. He smelled, a bit, like snow.

‘Er,’ said Remus, helpfully.

‘Didn’t know if I’d find you here,’ Sirius said, softly. ‘Thought you might be with your girlfriend.’

Remus shook his head, somehow not able to look at anything but Sirius’s face. ‘She’s in New York,’ he responded. ‘And I’m not really sure if she’s my girlfriend anymore.’

‘Okay,’ Sirius said.

‘Okay,’ Remus responded, feeling oddly light-headed, and dizzy. Calmly, he put the plate full of food behind him on the counter, and turned back to Sirius, who hadn’t moved and was looking at him with wide, impossibly grey eyes. His black hair fell into his eyes and spilled onto his white shirt, making a stark contrast.  

He was drunk. He was drunk, that was it, he thought vaguely, as he tilted Sirius’s head upwards, and kissed him. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks very much for your lovely reviews and kudos! ♥ They make me feel like everything's worth it.


	12. Chapter 12

Sirius kissed him back eagerly, pressing his body forward and pushing Remus back against the counter. His arms were on either side of Remus, resting on the counter top. Remus’s eyes fluttered shut and he wondered, not for the first time, what on earth he was doing. When it came to Sirius, it felt like he wasn’t really in control of what he said or did, and he wasn’t sure he liked it very much. But, he thought, as Sirius’s lips moved against his roughly, he also didn’t really mind.

'Oh,' said Sirius, breaking the kiss unexpectedly, and looking at him with enlarged pupils, the black nearly eclipsing the grey in his eyes.

Remus didn’t say anything, simply looking at him, his hands pressed awkwardly against his sides, trapped beneath Sirius’s arms, which were still pressed against the counter top.

Sirius was looking at him searchingly, and then slowly, very slowly, as if giving Remus time to change his mind, leaned forward and pressed their lips together in another kiss. His grey eyes never left Remus’s, who felt himself flush at the intimacy in those eyes, and then his eyes shut, and he gave himself over to just feeling.

He didn’t know how long they spent kissing, bodies pressed tightly together, warmth rushing between them. He could feel, faintly, Sirius’s racing heartbeat against his chest, and some of Sirius’s fingers running through his hair, gently urging his face closer to Sirius’s, as if it could get any closer. It vaguely seemed like Sirius was attempting, somehow, to blend their bodies together into one.

Eventually, one of them broke the kiss, and Remus realised that his fingers had laced together with Sirius’s, and were pressed against one of the upper cabinets. He didn’t know how they had gotten there, or who had done that. It was all pleasant and slightly blurry, his breathing heavy, his chest rising and falling, catching Sirius’s chest on the way up.

Sirius laughed, then, a breathy sound. He pulled his hand away from where it was entwined with Remus’s and leant his head on Remus’s shoulder. Remus followed him, pulling his hand away from the wooden cabinet and flexing his fingers, running them carefully through Sirius’s hair, which was soft. Sirius grinned up at him, and kissed him again, and again, and again.

‘I should get back,’ Sirius said against Remus’s neck, sometime later – minutes, hours, days, Remus wasn’t sure.

He nodded numbly, reluctantly pulling away. Sirius was smiling up at him, his cheeks flushed and his hair slightly tousled. One of the buttons of his white oxford had disappeared, although Remus couldn’t explain how exactly that had happened, revealing the skin underneath.

Remus’s own shirt had been pulled up to somewhere up his midriff, Sirius’s fingers pressed warmly against the skin, and when Sirius pulled back, he could suddenly feel the cold breeze that blew in from the kitchen window, which he’d neglected to close. His dinner stood, cold, behind him, and he tugged at the fabric of his shirt, letting it fall back down.

‘Yes,’ Remus said, even though it hadn’t really been required. In reply, Sirius kissed his neck, just where his jaw met his ear, and he felt his eyes flutter shut off their own accord.

When his eyes opened, Sirius had left him, and was pulling on his coat with a kind of reluctance. Remus turned and closed the window, which was making him shiver. Then he went into the living room, where Sirius was now standing, bundled up neatly against the cold.

‘Thanks for the Christmas card,’ Remus said, for want of something to say.

The smile Sirius gave him was brilliant, and slightly conspiring around the edges. ‘Thought you would,’ he said, nodding, as if praising himself for a job well done.

‘Happy Christmas, Sirius,’ Remus said.

‘Happy Christmas, Remus. See you around,’ Sirius responded, grinning broadly. He squeezed Remus’s forearm, and then was gone with a sharp crack of Disapparation.

Remus sank down upon the sofa, staring absently at the place Sirius had been standing just seconds before. For some reason, he was unable to stop smiling.

* * *

When he woke up, it took him a few seconds to become aware of the searing, complaining pain in his head, which felt remarkably like fruity red wine gone really, really wrong. He squeezed his eye shut again, but to no avail; he was already awake. He rolled over in the bed with some effort, and tried to piece together what happened yesterday, his eyes staring, unseeing, at the wall. Valerie had left him, he remembered, and then he’d run into Marlene and Jo, and then he’d opened presents and then –

He sat upright, and regretted it instantly, because it was far too quickly for his head to deal with, and his vision spun. Sirius. Sirius had Apparated into his flat and Remus had been _stupid_ and kissed him. God, he was such an  _idiot_. There was really no reason for him to start kissing the poor boy, no matter how much he had wanted to. Sirius hadn’t seemed to mind very much, though, which maybe was a whole different thing to think about. Right now, Remus thought, once his vision finally stopped spinning, he just needed the bathroom.

He stumbled across the flat, past the coffee table, which bore two empty bottle of wine (had he really gone through two bottles?) and a wine glass, and the remnants of his dinner, which he vaguely recalled eating at two in the morning. The bathroom tiles were cold, for which he was grateful, and he hadn’t got there a moment too soon; he was sick into the toilet.

His vision spun again as he flushed without raising his head, the porcelain lid feeling cool and soothing against his feverish brow. It had been a while since he’d been that sick from alcohol, although this, somehow, had felt remarkably like something else. Which was silly, really; what else would he be sick of?

He got up, having to steady himself against the wall, and gingerly made his way back to the living room.

 _Better start cleaning this up_ , he thought, his fingers finding the neck of the wine bottle on the coffee table, and clasping it, firmly. He grabbed the glass and the other bottle in his other hand, the plate balancing dangerously on his forearm, and made his way to the kitchen.

Afterwards, he would never really be able to explain what happened, because it happened so very quickly. The plate overbalanced, unexpectedly, and he had to sway on his feet to accommodate it. His head started spinning at the sudden movement, warmness thumping against his skull, making him drowsy.

He was dimly aware of the shattering of glass as the bottles hit the floor one by one; slipping from his fingers as if he’d lost control of them. Oddly, he also felt himself falling, his vision blurring. His head felt really light, and he murmured something in alarm, although he couldn’t really understand what it was, because the sound came from far away. By the time he hit the floor, the plate clattering noisily onto the kitchen tiles, he had lost consciousness.

* * *

When he woke up, the room was unnecessarily bright, and he was in a bed in a room he didn’t immediately recognise. When his eyes adjusted, Alice’s face swam into view, pinched with worry and another emotion Remus wasn’t sure he could read. She met his eyes, and let out a sigh that might have been relief, clutching his hand.

‘Remus,’ she said, simply.

Remus sat up, a bit awkwardly. He became aware of the heavy sting of blood being drawn out of his upturned arm, almost awkwardly, and felt suddenly lightheaded. ‘I fainted?’ he asked, because that was what it had felt like, even though that had never happened to him before. He remembered, however, reading about the effects.

Alice nodded, squeezing his hand gently. ‘Marlene had sent me an owl, saying Valerie had left you, and that you were all alone. So I Apparated to the flat to invite you to lunch, and you were lying in the kitchen, completely out of it, glass everywhere. You didn’t even respond when I called your name.’

Remus hissed when another prick of a needle penetrated his skin and looked at his arm. A wand was dutifully collecting vials of his blood, marking them magically with his name once they were full. From the looks of it, three had already been filled, and a fourth was well on its way.

He felt feverish, he thought, lying back on the bed he now realised was in St Mungo’s. Alice was sat on his bed and, behind her, he could see Marlene, who looked tired and extremely guilty.

‘It’s not your fault,’ Remus told her, because he knew her quite well, and she winced, visibly.

‘It is,’ she insisted, standing up. ‘I shouldn’t have left you. I knew you weren’t well.’

Remus’s eyebrow rose as, with a pop, the last vial of blood detached itself from his body, and disappeared alongside the others. The wand fell limply to the bed, its job done. ‘Did you?’ he asked Marlene. ‘I didn’t.’

‘That’s because you’re about as perceptive as a foot,’ Marlene said, snottily.

Remus snorted and, out of the corner of his eye, he could see Alice smiling. ‘Thanks,’ Remus responded, dryly.

‘Well, it’s true,’ Marlene said, sitting down on the other side of the bed, and looking down at him. ‘You’ve been having headaches for months now.’

Remus stared. ‘That’s why you took me here? Because I’ve got headaches?’ he asked, incredulously.

Alice squeezed his hand again. ‘No,’ she said, honestly. ‘I took you here because you were running a massive fever and you weren’t responsive when I tried to revive you with magic. Marlene only mentioned the headaches when I Floo’d her. Now we’re just trying to rule out if the two things are related.’

Remus nodded, resentment still pinging a bit in his chest. ‘Would’ve been nice if you’d asked,’ he said, looking around the room for the first time, and recognising it as a private, out-care patient room, although it wasn’t one he had used before. The window showed a view of a deserted beach, the sand almost blindingly white, the ocean lapping gently at the shore. It seemed out of place, it being Christmas, and all. This must be an infrequently used room; Remus knew there were rooms that had winter landscapes.

‘You weren’t really in a position to answer, though, were you,’ countered Marlene. ‘Can you tell us what happened after I left?’

‘I drank some wine,’ Remus said, his brow furrowing. ‘I had a bottle, I think, and some chocolate bonbons. Oh,’ he added, as an afterthought, ‘And chicken.’ There was a pause as he tried to recall the rest. ‘Unwrapped presents. Woke up the next morning feeling hungover, was sick, and then, presumably, fainted and was brought here.’

He remembered, also, Sirius, but he didn’t think that was appropriate to bring up.

‘A day ago,’ Marlene supplied, helpfully.

‘I’ve been out for an entire day?’ Remus demanded, feeling control slip out of his fingertips with a hint of panic. That wasn’t normal. His brain felt hazy and thick, but he tried to think, nonetheless, of what this might mean. He forced himself to look at this case as if he was one of his own patients, even though the very thought made him slightly queasy.

 _Headaches_ , he summed up in his mind, thoughtfully. _Headaches at regular intervals, varying in intensity_. _Being sick, and passing out unexpectedly_. He closed his eyes, trying to recall pages and pages of textbooks that weren’t necessarily related to spell damage, but to magical maladies, which he had never been too interested in. He could think of nothing. Resentfully, he opened his eyes again.

At that moment, the door opened, and Healer Martin stepped into the room. She glanced up at the bed and smiled at him over the magical parchment that popped up in front of her. ‘All right, Lupin?’ she asked, cheerfully, as if Remus hadn’t walked in on her and Marlene just two days ago.

‘I suppose,’ Remus responded, a bit sulkily. He was never really good at being sick. It wasn’t something he cared for, and something he avoided, if he could help it.

Alice and Marlene had stood up from the bed, Alice squeezing his hand once more, as Martin stepped closer to it, her eyes still focused on the parchment. When she came to the bed, she was still smiling.

‘We’re still running tests,’ she said, ‘but I have some ideas of what this might be.’

‘Do share,’ Remus said, dryly. 

The smile she gave him was infuriatingly patient. He hoped that wasn’t what he looked like while he was treating patients.

‘Not until I’m absolutely certain,’ she responded, loftily. ‘In the meantime, I suggest you get some sleep, Lupin.’

‘I just woke up after two days of sleeping!’ Remus said, incredulously.

‘No,’ Martin responded, patiently. ‘I woke you up on purpose to check if you could recall what had happened. Now, I need you to go back to sleep.’

The wand that had been laying idly on Remus’s bed flew up into her hand, and the beach in the window started smudging, becoming an odd blend of white and blue. Remus, who knew that she must’ve given him some sort of Sleeping Draught earlier, felt helpless, as sleep pressed against him urgently.

The last thing he saw before it overcame him was Alice’s smile, which was motherly and comforting, her hand pressed warmly against his arm.

* * *

Someone was saying his name, rather urgently, and Remus felt himself being pulled from sleep, almost as if by force. It was unpleasant, and made him groggy, as he opened his eyes. They found and focused on Martin, who was stood, leaning over him.

‘Listen,’ she said, and Remus tried his very best to do just that. ‘Your intracranial pressure is extremely high, Lupin. We don’t know what’s causing it, and we’ll need to run some more tests. Until then, I need you to go back to sleep, all right? Just to be on the safe side. I’ve already informed your parents of your being here.’

 _Intracranial pressure_ , Remus thought vaguely. It was the last thing he was conscious of, before sleep overcame him like a wave, and his thoughts faded into nothingness.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Again, I'm really thankful for all your kind words ♥ And to those who predicted this might happen - you're very clever, indeed!


	13. Chapter 13

He was dreaming of music.

It sounded like colours, vibrant, red-blue-yellow-purple, and he heard the dark bass of a cello, and the sharp thrill of a flute, and a hint of piano music, notes thundering in a dazzling scale that soared up and up and up and up, out of his reach, but it was surrounding him, and he was hot and cold, but it was perfect –

Until he was suddenly awake, the dream forgotten and the music fading into nothingness. The room was filled with a blindingly white light, which flooded his eyes, overwhelming them. He squeezed them shut again in protest, but it was of no use; the light pricked through easily. A headache pounded, softly, at the back of his brain. He reluctantly opened his eyes again and, ever so slowly, they adjusted to the room.

At the same time, the noise of a conversation that he had been aware of while sleeping, but had not really been listening to, was turned up, almost gradually, as if he was listening to Mrs Pritchard tuning the wireless she kept in the Staff’s Tea Room. Slowly, he came to recognise that it was his mother’s voice that he was hearing, soft and Welsh.

‘Mum?’ he said, and then there she was, a vision of beauty, her soft russet hair falling over her shoulders in waves. She grabbed his hand. Everything felt a bit blurry.

‘Remus,’ she breathed. ‘Oh, what a perfectly ghastly thing to happen! We’ve been so worried. How are you feeling now?’

‘All right. Bit of a headache,’ Remus said, because it was there, beating joyfully behind his eyes. ‘And a fever, I think.’ He sat up, back against the pillows, with some effort.

‘I’m so sorry, darling, I wouldn’t know. We weren’t told anything,’ she said, her eyes bright, bright blue, framed by thick, mascara-coated lashes. He’d never seen his mother without her make-up on. Once, he had woken up in the middle of the night and snuck into his parents’ bedroom. She'd woken up at the sound of the door creaking, and had told him to wait outside. She had then appeared some time later, her face perfectly made-up, her hair neatly combed, and had only then pulled him into bed.

‘I know,’ Remus said, attempting a smile. ‘I asked them not to.’

‘We are your _parents_ ,’ his mother said, resentfully, ‘we should know what’s going on.’

‘Mum,’ he said calmly, squeezing her hand, ‘I didn’t want to worry you if it wasn’t necessary. I’m sure everything's absolutely fine.’

She sat down on his bed, her robes, although patched, perfectly neat and starched. It was then Remus noticed that his father was there, too. Lyall Lupin was watching the two of them, stood at the foot of Remus’s bed, his hands clasped over the metal frame. He was quiet, but it was inevitable that he would say something; he did not approve of a lot of things, and being sick was one of them. Remus remembered, one time, catching a cold while they were on holiday, and his father had sent him up to his room in the cabin they were renting. He was only allowed downstairs again after he was feeling better, which took the better part of three days.

He knew his parents loved him, really. His mother had been only seventeen and fresh out of Hogwarts when they were married, while his father had been much older and was already working for the Ministry. She'd wanted to work at Gladrags Wizardwear, designing robes. But then, within a year, she fell pregnant. Hope Lupin had always, only, looked forward in life, and forgot about her dreams, throwing herself into motherhood. So while his father worked hard for the family, his mother stayed at home, raising Remus. His mother’s family wasn’t very well off, and his father's family - despite owning some modest houses all over England - did not have very much of it, either. All in all, his parents had been taught by their parents to be a mother and a father, and that was exactly what they were to him.

‘It doesn’t sound like you’re absolutely fine, Remus,’ his father said, eventually. ‘Or you wouldn’t be in hospital.’

Remus, wisely, said nothing.

At that moment, the door opened, and Healer Martin stepped into the room. Her skin had an ashy tone to it, but her hair was pulled back into a perfect, neat bun at the nape of her neck, and she looked otherwise like she did the last time he’d seen her. She met Remus’s eyes over the magical parchment and smiled, brightly, grabbing the parchment in one hand and stepping forward, towards the bed.

‘Mr and Mrs Lupin,’ she addressed his parents. ‘Thank you for coming in. I hope you’ve had a good Christmas.’

‘Oh, it was delightful,’ his mother said, and she was smiling. ‘Thank you. I do hope yours was the same. You must be Healer Martin.’

‘Yes,’ Martin responded, cheerfully, but Remus wasn’t fooled; Martin’s eyes kept glancing at the parchment in her hands as if she was checking something, and he knew it was coming before she said it. His stomach dropped.

‘We’re going to run a few more tests,’ Martin said brightly, which meant, _we’re guessing, at this point_. ‘So I’m going to need you to step out of the room, Mr and Mrs Lupin. Standard procedure, I’m afraid.’

‘Of course,’ his mother said, but there was something petulant in her tone. Somehow, she had never lost her childish naiveté, which was perhaps one of the reasons Remus felt protective of her, and didn't go into too much detail when discussing his job, or his life. Somehow, he didn't think she could handle very much. As if by unspoken agreement, his father did the same.

His mother leaned forward and pressed a kiss to Remus’s feverish brow. ‘I love you,’ she whispered, and then pulled away, stepping towards his father. She looked distraught. When she reached Lyall, he slung an arm over her shoulder in an uncharacteristic display of affection, and steered her out of the room. He didn’t look back.

Martin smiled at him, a little too bright, and murmured a spell, her wand touching his temple. He felt a heat flood his mind as she administered spells and enchantments. He tried very hard to remain still as she moved her wand over his face, his ears, his eyes, all the while asking him questions about how he had been sleeping (fine), if he’d been very stressed at work (not really), and if he had felt nauseous (no). He didn’t know if he was being helpful, but he did really try.

Healer Martin pulled away, eventually, an unreadable look on her face, and told him that they were going to monitor him, just until they knew what was wrong. She left Remus, then, and his parents came back into the room to say goodbye. His mother was a bit tearful, but tactfully didn’t ask about Valerie, which he appreciated. His father clapped him on the shoulder, hard, and then they left.

Three days. He’d been in here for three days. The inability to do anything was starting to grate on his nerves. So was the fact that no one, apparently, had any clue as to what was wrong with him. As the hours passed, very slowly, he half-expected Martin to come in and tell him what the tests had been for, but she didn’t. Marlene and Alice visited him on their lunch break, sharing a sandwich with him, but even they could tell him nothing.

At the end of the day, he fell asleep alone. He was none the wiser, and ever so frustrated.

* * *

He awoke, feeling himself being pulled from sleep carefully, which was a feeling he had grown unaccustomed to, what with all the Sleeping Draughts they had been administering him. When he opened his eyes, he became aware, quite quickly, that he was not alone. He turned to his side, slowly, sluggishly, his limbs sleepy. Sirius was sitting on a chair next to his bed, his incredible grey eyes wide as they surveyed him.

His hand was lying close to Remus’s on the bed, the tips of his fingers stained faintly with black ink. Their fingers were almost touching.

If Remus had been fully in control of his limbs, he would’ve probably jumped up. As it was, he simply made a shocked, chocking sound at the back of his throat, which somehow amused Sirius, because he grinned broadly, and touched his fingers to Remus’s wrist, a fragile, carefully soft touch.

‘Hello,’ said Sirius. His voice was smooth and low, and something in Remus’s stomach hitched at the sound.

‘Hi,’ Remus responded, surprised. ‘What are you – how did you know I was –’

‘Marlene told James’s mum,’ said Sirius. ‘I overheard.’

‘I thought you were at Hogwarts for Christmas hols?’ Remus wondered, his voice sounding rough and slightly sleepy.

Sirius gave him a splendid grin in reply.

‘You snuck out to visit the Potters?’ Remus guessed.

Sirius’s grin widened, just the slightest bit.

‘Are you _ever_ at school?’ Remus asked, but it was fond, and not even half as chastising as he’d intended it.

‘Yes,’ Sirius responded, quite honestly. ‘Ask McGonagall. She’d rather I wasn’t, or so she says. She loves me, really.’

Remus shook his head, amused. He felt nonetheless, a bit inexplicably, glad to see Sirius sitting here, at his bed. Their fingers were still lying close, almost touching, and it made Remus aware of his hands, and of how sleep-rumpled he must look. Then, he wondered why he cared.

‘Sorry,’ he said, softly. ‘I’m not very good at this.’

‘Talking, you mean? You’re doing just fine. With a bit of practise, you’ll be all right,’ Sirius said, with that charming grin still on his face.

Remus snorted and then, without really meaning to, glanced down at their hands again. As if reading his thoughts, Sirius’s fingers reached out, and linked them together, squeezing softly. It felt comforting.

‘Thanks,’ Remus said, without looking up.

‘You must hate being here, not know what’s going on,’ Sirius said.

‘Yes,’ Remus admitted. ‘I think I’m better at being a Healer than at being a patient. I don’t really know what’s wrong. I don’t think the hospital knows, either. It’s been a few days. Maybe they’re deciding the best way to tell me that I’m dying,’ he added, jokingly.

He didn’t know why he’d said that. It had come out of his mouth without intention; a thought turned into words he didn’t realise he’d been thinking until he spoke them. He also didn’t know why he said them to Sirius, who stared at him, affronted. 

‘Of course not you’re not dying! Don’t be _stupid_ ,’ he said, vehemently.

In response, Remus only raised his eyebrows.

‘What?’ Sirius demanded. ‘You’ll be fine. Twat,’ he added.

And suddenly, Remus realised that that’s why he’d said it. Because he knew that Sirius would respond this way, and it was endlessly better, and more comforting, than Martin’s courteous bedside manner, and Marlene’s vague promises, and Alice’s gentle concern, and his mother’s remarks over how dreadful it all really was. This felt real. And he felt, somehow, reassured that he _was_ going to be just fine.

He almost laughed. A seventeen-year-old boy told him he was fine, and he was so – well, he didn’t know exactly what he was, because he had no idea what earth he was doing even talking to the boy – but he was reassured and felt calm, for the first time since he’d woken up in hospital. And he did very much appreciate that.

‘You know, you’re really awful at consoling sick people,’ Remus said, but he was smiling.

Sirius grinned back at him. ‘That’s all right. I’ve no intention of becoming a Healer, anyway.’

Remus surveyed him critically. ‘Auror?’ he guessed. Sirius pulled a face, which made him laugh. ‘Not a Ministry man?’

‘ _Definitely_ not,’ Sirius said. ‘I thought, maybe, I’d like to be a Cursebreaker. It sounds really cool.’

‘Fabian and Gideon Prewett have just finished training to be Cursebreakers,’ Remus said, thoughtfully, sitting up in the bed so he could look at Sirius more clearly. ‘I could ask if they’ve got time to meet with you.’

A funny look came over Sirius’s face. ‘Are you joking?’ he asked, and his voice was pitched, torn between shock and incredulity.

‘Er, no,’ said Remus, frowning slightly, wondering if he’d overstepped the mark. ‘Sorry, is that –’

‘Can I bring James?’ Sirius said, his mouth twitching up into a smile and there was, again, that dimple in his cheek.

‘Why?’ Remus asked, confused. ‘Does he want to be a Cursebreaker, too?’

Sirius’s grin was wide, and wicked. ‘No,’ he said, but didn’t elaborate further. ‘Did I tell you about that prank we pulled at Hallowe’en? McGonagall was _furious_. She almost had us all expelled.’

Remus’s eyebrows rose up to his hairline, and he was curious despite himself. ‘Really? Do tell.’

* * *

‘I should go,’ Sirius said.

Remus, who had been in the middle of eating dinner, looked up at him in surprise. But then his eyes found the watch that Sirius was wearing, silver and handsome, and read that it was nearly seven. It would be hard for Sirius to sneak back into the castle, now. Immediately, Remus felt guilty.

‘Yes, of course,’ he said, putting his knife and fork down upon the plate. In response, the plate, and the silver tray that it had been lying on, disappeared with a faint ‘pop!’ off his lap. ‘Sorry. I keep forgetting –’

He stopped himself, realising he didn’t know how to finish this sentence, so he simply didn’t. He just watched as Sirius got up and put on his winter cloak, which Remus noticed for the first time had been folded, neatly, over the foot of Remus’s bed. He put his scarlet and gold Gryffindor scarf over it, knotting it carefully. If he was wearing it, it must be cold out. And then, Sirius was stood very close to him, giving him a smile that was slow and secretive, as he leaned forward.

At that moment, the door swung open. Remus, startled by the sound, turned to look at who was there.

‘Valerie!’ he said, and it sounded as surprised as he felt.

She wore stunning robes of green that Remus had never seen before. When she stepped further into the room, shutting the door softly behind her, Remus could see that her silvery blonde hair was elegantly braided, a few tendrils sneaking out and framing her face. He could smell her perfume, familiar and comforting, as she walked towards him. When she reached the bed, worry evident in her soft brown eyes, she took his hand.

‘Remus,’ she said, simple, and loving, and caring.

And as soon as she’d said it, Remus realised that Sirius was still there.

When he turned his head to look at him, he saw that Sirius had drawn back, his shoulders taut, making him look tall and vaguely threatening. He was looking at Valerie with a carefully blank, polite expression.

‘Black,’ Valerie said, and her voice sounded surprised, but polite.

‘Glassborow,’ Sirius said, with a nod. ‘I was just leaving.’

‘Yes,’ Valerie responded, as sharp as ever, ‘I imagine Hogwarts will want you back.’

With a shrug, Sirius turned to Remus. ‘I’ll see you around,’ he said, eventually, and then left the room without as much as a glance backwards.

Valerie looked after him until the door shut behind him, and then she turned to Remus, a look of surprise on her face. ‘I didn’t know you knew Sirius Black.’

And just like that, with sharp intensity, Remus’s worlds collided.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> When I wrote this story, it was unknown whether or not Remus was a pureblood, and I figured the only way Mrs Black would let him near her son would be if he was. So, I kept him like that, and altered his parents’ story-lines to reflect it.
> 
> In other news, this was such a beast of a chapter to write, I do really hope you’ll like it! And thank you very much for all your reviews so far, they mean so much to me.


	14. Chapter 14

Remus did not even hesitate, but said, ‘I met him at Alice’s New Year’s party a few years back. We chatted for a bit.’

It was an unfortunate talent he had always had, lying without exactly lying, words tumbling out of his mouth as if he had thought about them all properly, but hadn’t really. It was instinctive. It had been what his grandfather was so very, very good at. Besides, even if he would want to be honest with Valerie, it wouldn’t be a good idea; telling Valerie about Sirius’s visits to St Mungo’s would cost him his job.

Valerie frowned at him. ‘You chatted to him once a few years back and now he’s coming to visit you in hospital?’

‘It was very kind of him,’ said Remus, with a shrug. Somewhere in the back of his mind, his conscience was resentful of this turn of events, and attempted to interrupt with warnings of dishonesty, but Remus forced the thoughts down.  _There is no other way to handle this_ , he thought,  _it would just not be right for anyone involved_.

It was not the way he'd expected the conversation to go. It wasn’t that he ever imagined that he’d have a conversation with Valerie about Sirius, but still, somehow, this was not it. This felt like reducing Sirius’s importance, claiming his bright smile, his dimples and his wide grey eyes didn’t make Remus feel a little lost. But it was also necessary, in a way, to make Sirius out to be less than he was.

Valerie still looked unconvinced and then said, seemingly out of the blue, ‘I’ve known him for a very long time, Remus. He is a troubled child.’

There was a kind of lightness to her tone, but her words held something implicit, something unreadable. It flared something dark and heavy in Remus’s stomach, because it sounded like she knew something, or suspected something, but would not share it. He did dislike it ever so much when she chose to act like that. Before he could open his mouth to say something, however, she had looked at him, and decided, on her own, to change the subject. When she got like this, he knew pressing her was useless. ‘Your mother wrote to tell me you were in hospital. I’m so sorry.’

Remus squeezed her hand.

‘I didn’t know if it was good to come,’ Valerie offered. ‘But I knew I would regret it if I didn’t. Do they know anything yet?’

Remus shook his head.

Valerie’s mouth tightened, slightly, but there was nothing really she could say to that, so she didn’t. She did always know how to use her words. ‘I can’t stay. I have to get back to New York.’

‘I understand,’ Remus said.

She kissed his forehead, then, intimate and soft. ‘I will be back as soon as I can. Take care, Remus.’

It sounded a lot like goodbye. Maybe it was. He wasn’t sure.

‘You too, Valerie,’ he said, and smiled.

‘I’ll see you soon,’ she said, and then smiled, too, and left his room, her cloak swirling brilliant and green behind her.

* * *

 When it did come, a day later, early in the morning, Remus was almost not surprised.

Healer Martin burst into the room, unannounced, just as he was changing into a freshly washed pair of pyjamas, courtesy of Alice and Marlene, taken out of his own closet. He buttoned up the rest of the shirt and stood to face her, his thoughts going a mile a minute.  _They know_ , he thought, because she was beaming at him with a kind of triumph.

‘Lupin,’ Martin said. He noticed, absently, that the ashy tone to her skin had disappeared. He wondered if he had been the one who had put it there. And then, it came out in a rush. ‘It’s  _rare_ ,’ she said, with a wonder in her voice that came from being assigned this case and being given a chance to do something extraordinary. ‘If you were a Muggle, we couldn’t have done anything, but since you are a wizard, it's reacting to the magic in your body and it’s all mixed up, but we can  _fix_  it.’

Remus didn’t know when he started leaning on the metal of the bed in relief, looking at her with eyes that were wide and shocked. ‘Does it have a name?’ he asked, as if it even mattered, now. Fixing it meant going back to normal, meant leaving St Mungo’s, and meant gaining back control of his own life.

Martin, disappointingly, shook her head. ‘We found the symptoms in  _Magical Ailments and Diseases of Wizarding Britain_ , in a reference note.’

The book sounded familiar, and it took a moment for Remus to call to mind a leather-bound book with a swooning witch on the cover, recognising it as one of the standard texts in the first year of Healer training. He couldn’t recall all the reference notes; it was more like Marlene to read and memorise those, and then tease him with questions he didn’t know the answer to when they were studying together.

Martin, meanwhile, had continued, ‘– and then one of the assistant-Healers working with me on the case found the instructions. And I mean, it’s risky, but I think we should, Lupin. I think we  _should_.’

It was possible she had suggested something life-changing, but Remus hadn’t really heard, hadn’t really registered. Oddly, he was only thinking of Sirius’s dimples, which was entirely inappropriate, so he forced himself to look at Martin, instead. ‘When?’ he asked.

Her smile was beautiful and capable. She looked like she was in control again. Five days it had taken her to find this solution, this answer. He knew, then, that it would always be one of the things she would fault herself for, one of the things she would remember when she was feeling low, and questioning her capabilities as a Healer – he knew, because it was what they all did, measuring their worth against the cases they couldn’t solve, the people they couldn’t save.

‘As soon as possible. We’ll be monitoring you after the procedure, but if all goes well, you can go home.’

Relief, glorious, warm relief surged through him. ‘All right,’ he said.

‘All right,’ said Martin, around a smile that lit up her face.

* * *

The second time Sirius came to visit him, it was just as unexpected as the first time. Remus had been eating breakfast – toast with raspberry jam and some really awful tea that he had to add half the sugar-pot to in order for it to be even remotely tasty – when Sirius showed up, hair soaking wet and cloak dripping resentfully on the hospital floor. His eyes looked very, very grey.

‘Merlin, it’s  _pouring_ ,’ Sirius announced, far more loudly than necessary, as he stepped into the room, closed the door behind him, and took off his cloak. Water gushed from it in waves, almost comically, when he hung it over the railing of Remus’s hospital bed to dry.

Remus stared at it, feeling water soak through the bedsheets that were tangled inexplicably with his feet, and he must’ve pulled a face, because Sirius laughed at him, not entirely unkindly, as he sat down in the chair beside Remus’s bed, tilting it so that it was stood only on its back legs, Sirius’s feet resting idly on Remus’s mattress.

‘Ah, you’ve been lonely without me, admit it,’ he said, simply.

‘Black, your cloak is making my feet wet,’ Remus responded.

‘Did I ever tell you about the time James and I turned the floor of the Great Hall into ice?’ Sirius asked, ignoring Remus completely.

‘I can imagine it felt very much like the way my feet are feeling right now,’ Remus said.

Sirius looked at him for a moment, blinking in surprise, and then shook his head. He leaned forward, the chair returning to its regular, four-legs-on-floor state, and kissed Remus, hard, on the lips. By the time he drew back, Remus was breathless, and looking at Sirius, all thoughts of his soaking wet feet, mostly, forgotten.

Sirius looked entirely unaffected, tilting the chair back onto its back legs. ‘So, it started with Snivellus – as things usually do, you can just imagine the horrors James and I have to endure being in his constant presence –’

In the end, Sirius stayed for four hours, until he said that McGonagall was expecting him back to serve a detention. He didn’t mention Valerie. Remus didn’t, either.

* * *

 

‘It was just tragic, really,’ Fabian said.

He was sat on Remus’s bed, all red hair and freckles and only just twenty-one.

‘Very,’ said Gideon, his twin brother. He was leaning against the wall, his sandy blonde hair falling into his eyes, which were bright with recalled mischief. ‘We did tell him not to trust anyone who looks like he knows more about pyramids than you, but he wouldn’t listen.’

‘How odd,’ said Remus, amused. ‘You two are so trustworthy.’

‘That’s what we said!’ said Fabian, feigning resentment.

The door flew open with a loud bang, and Sirius appeared. ‘Remus,’ he said, whined really, his winter cloak heaving with sleet, and something clutched in his hands that looked suspiciously like a book, ‘you’ll never guess –’

At that moment, he spotted Fabian and Gideon. The rest of his sentence halted in his throat, coming out in a croaked sort of gasp, and he just stood utterly still in the middle of the room. He looked, suddenly, eleven-years-old again. Fabian rose up from the bed and stood there while he waited for Sirius to gather his wits, grinning like a maniac. Remus, vaguely, felt sorry for Sirius.

‘You’re –’ Sirius said, looking between them. ‘You’re the Prewetts – I’m – it’s such an honour,’ he said, the words tumbling out fast. ‘I mean, the pranks you pulled – you’re  _legendary_.’

‘We’ve been told,’ Gideon said, sounding extremely amused. He had come to stand next to his brother, his arm thrown casually over Fabian’s shoulder.

Sirius looked like he could hardly contain his excitement. ‘My favourite is the one you did on Valentine’s Day, in the Great Hall.’

‘Ah, can’t take the credit for that one, sadly,’ said Fabian, jerking his head in Remus’s direction. ‘It was designed by Remus.’

Sirius’s mouth dropped as he rounded on Remus, who held up his hands in embarrassment. ‘Momentary lapse of judgement,’ Remus said, but he was smiling.

Gideon roared with laughter. ‘If that’s what you need to tell yourself, Lupin. It’s always the quiet ones,’ he added to Sirius, winking conspiratorially.

‘Do try to get better,’ Fabian said, patting Remus on the head. ‘Even Mol’s missing you, and she’s up to her ears in the new baby.’

‘Tell her I said hello. And thanks for visiting,’ said Remus.

Fabian gave a shrug that meant,  _of course_.

‘It was nice meeting you,’ Gideon said, grinning broadly at Sirius, and winking at Remus. Then, the twins left, seemingly as one person, stepping past Sirius and out of the room, one of them kicking the door shut behind them.

Sirius stood there for a moment longer after they had left, his fingers clutching mindlessly at the book he had been holding. Remus was torn between amusement and pity.

‘All right?’ he asked, eventually.

Sirius turned his head to look at him, his mouth opening and closing around words that were unsaid. Then, he said, ‘I can’t  _believe_  you,’ and the incredulity in his voice was mixed with amusement, and something Remus thought might be admiration.

‘How?’ Sirius demanded, flopping down on his bed, steadily soaking the sheets.

‘How what?’ Remus asked, innocently, and made attempts to gently shove him off the bed. The last time Sirius had visited was still fresh in his mind, his dripping cloak having steadily soaked Remus to the bone; Martin had given him a Pepper-Up Potion after he’d felt the beginnings of a cold. She’d chastised him, after, telling him to be more careful.

‘This is just not on,’ Sirius said, disappointment heavy in his voice. He leaned forward, pressing his whole body against Remus’s, which was still covered by the sheet. ‘Betrayed,  _lied_  to –’

‘You’re extremely wet again,’ Remus said.

Sirius kissed him, kissed him, kissed him, until Remus thought he would burst. It was silly how Sirius made him forget things, like how incredibly soaking wet his sheets were, now, and how he was actually shivering from the cold of it. He envisioned, briefly, Martin standing in the corner of the room, her arms crossed over her chest as she launched into the same lecture she’d given him last time. 

But then Sirius kissed him again, and Remus forgot how to do anything except kiss back, his left hand coming up to tangle itself into Sirius’s hair. After a while, Sirius pulled back. ‘I got you a book,’ he said. ‘And I’ve got to go.’

Remus blinked, dazedly, as Sirius stole another kiss, and then got off the bed with a distinct plopping sound, which could be heard when his sopping winter boots hit the floor. He grinned once at Remus, secretive and slowly, and then made for the door. Remus shook his head, and then looked down at the book Sirius had forced into his hands just before he left.  

It was a first edition of  _Charms of Defence and Deterrence_. Remus stared at it, stroking his hands over the gilded cover, which had the title of the book and the author’s name embossed in it. When he opened it, he saw that the first couple of pages were made of wafer-thin, sheer paper with elaborate, gold-foiled detailing of the principles and workings of the Patronus Charm. The book was signed (signed!) by Professor Catullus Spangle, himself, on the first page.

‘Thought you might like it,’ Sirius’s voice came, softly, from the door. He sounded pleased.

But when Remus looked up, he was gone, leaving Remus, and his utterly bewildered thoughts, alone.

That evening, Healer Martin popped into the room. ‘Tomorrow,’ she said, and Remus looked up from  _Charms of Defence and Deterrence_ with a smile that hadn’t left his face since that afternoon.

‘Tomorrow,’ he agreed.

* * *

The next day, early in the morning, Martin showed up in his room. She explained, as she escorted Remus into another room, his muscles stiff and uncooperative from being inactive for too long, that the wait had been due to Healer Goldstein. A retired Healer, she had been the only one who had ever treated someone with similar symptoms to Remus’s. And she had been too busy with committee meetings and Ministry attachés to tend to him before now.

When Remus was introduced to her, he was reminded vaguely of his grandmother. She was a tall woman, with greying blonde hair, and sharp greenish grey eyes that were framed by silver, round spectacles. She shook Remus’s hand, firmly, and then smiled at him. She looked old, but formidable.

‘Very nice to meet you, Healer Lupin. I think your Healing Charm is one of the cleverest things I’ve seen in my career,’ she said, primly. Then, her tone turned brusque, pleasantries apparently forgotten. ‘Now, I’ve been told you’ve been suffering from high intracranial pressure for well over six months now.’

For some reason, Remus felt chastised. ‘Yes,’ he said.

‘While I assume Healer Martin has explained the procedure to you, I will do so again, if you would lie down?’ she asked.

Remus did as she said, lying down on the hospital bed in a room which was located at the very end of the second floor. The room itself was cosy and warm, but it was bare except for the bed, and a team of assistant-Healers, helmed by Healer Goldstein and Healer Martin. He felt slightly drowsy, but he didn’t know if it was because of the room or because of his anticipation of what was about to happen.

‘You will be given a sip of a Draught of Living Death potion, which will put you into a heavy sleep. While you are asleep, I will take a look inside your brain, see what’s causing the pressure, and hopefully cure you of it. If all goes well, you will wake up and your headaches will be a thing of the past.’

‘Sounds lovely,’ said Remus, somehow thinking of Alice and Marlene, who would be waiting for him. They had been worried, but also hopeful. In an uncharacteristic display of affection, Marlene had planted a kiss on his cheek, and Alice had squeezed his hand.  _We will be here_ , she had said, and Remus had smiled.

‘All right,’ said Healer Goldstein, cheerfully. ‘Please take the potion, then, Healer Lupin, and we will see you in a few hours.’

Remus did as he was told.

* * *

The next thing he became aware of was a dimmed lightness all around him, which seemed dull and not really there. He felt a faint note of panic in the pit of his stomach when he realised that it was a struggle to open his eyes, but the panic subsided when he found that he could. Sitting next to his bed, chatting quietly, were Alice, Marlene and Sirius. He sat up, a bit slowly, leaning on his forearms.

It was as if time had slowed down. The three of them turned to look at him all at the same time, with identical expressions of relief evident in their features. Somehow, his eyes found Sirius, and stayed on his face.

‘Hi,’ said Sirius, eventually, with a grin that was made of something beautiful.

‘Hello,’ Remus croaked, sleepily.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> While this will not be too important for the rest of the story, I imagine some people are curious to know what, exactly, Remus is suffering from. He has a form of idiopathic intracranial hypertension, a neurological disease of unknown origins that heightens the intracranial pressure in the brain. Remus’s innate magic has been battling the disease, and while it was able to reduce the symptoms at times, it has also, unintentionally, attached itself to the disease, creating a strange blend of symptoms that are wildly uncontrollable. This blend is so very rare that it has no name, and I don’t think it will ever get one. 
> 
> There is currently no cure for the disease as far as I am aware, but I imagine magic is able to do things that modern medicine cannot, and created a weird blend of treatments that will at least comfortably reduce the symptoms for Remus.
> 
> In a way, this chapter is kind of a whirlwind of emotions. I do hope you’ll like it.


	15. Chapter 15

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Warning: Please note that this chapter contains some violent images.**

‘How’re you feeling?’ said Alice, and, reluctantly, Remus pulled his gaze away from Sirius’s face to look at her. She looked tired, the circles under her eyes a dark shade of grey, making an uncomfortable contrast against her pale skin. Her eyes were bright and alert, though, and she was surveying him calmly.

‘I don’t really know how I’m supposed to feel,’ Remus shrugged, fumbling a bit uncertainly around the words. ‘I think I’m fine, but I’m not sure. Tired, I suppose.’

‘Well,’ said Marlene primly, ‘that’s to be expected. Healer Goldstein did have her wand in your brain. She probably rearranged things to make you more bearable,’ she added. She looked just the same as she’d had when he’d left for his procedure, her black curly hair pulled back into a springy ponytail. She was grinning, broadly, relief evident.

‘Charming,’ said Remus dryly, and he made another attempt at sitting up. He succeeded on his third try, and much appreciated that none of them rushed to his side to help him up.  

It was then he noticed that the hospital room around him was different from the one than he had been in before. The walls were a bare white, and this one had a window which, surprisingly, offered a view of London’s foggy, early-January weather. The russet-coloured brick and spindly turrets of nearby buildings were almost visible when he looked out. The bed he was lying on was a lot smaller than his previous one had been, and his clothes and winter coat were lying haphazardly on top of his old Hogwarts trunk, which was stood in the corner.

He frowned. ‘Where did that come from?’

‘Your mother,’ said Alice, her mouth a very thin line, as if she was holding back from saying something else. ‘She sent it over, because she thought it might come in handy.’

Remus stared. ‘For what?’

‘No one knows,’ said Marlene ominously, her voice low and raspy.

While Alice pulled a face at Marlene’s dramatics, Sirius grinned, but otherwise remained quiet. Remus frowned. Sirius’s silence was a bit unnerving. Whenever Sirius had visited him in hospital before, it was like the words couldn’t stop pouring out, inane observations and clever ideas mingling to form a pleasant conversation. In all the time Remus had known him, Sirius had never really been  _quiet_. So Remus raised his eyebrows at him, blinking a bit in surprise.

‘What?’ demanded Sirius, in a low voice, looking extremely uncomfortable finding himself on the receiving end of Remus’s expectant gaze.

Remus opened his mouth to reply, but Marlene beat him to it. ‘You’re absurdly quiet, Black. You’re not planning on exploding a Dung Bomb in the room or something?’

‘That was one time, McKinnon,’ Sirius told her, and it came out kind of breathless and annoyed and fast. Marlene’s eyes narrowed and she seemed ready to tell him off, but Sirius turned to Remus, and said, decisively, ‘So, you’re better now?’

‘That’s the idea,’ said Remus, smothering a smile at Marlene’s annoyed face. ‘I don’t know what the plan is –’

‘Oh, good, you’re awake,’ came Healer Martin’s relieved voice from the doorway. She was stood there, beaming at him. ‘I was hoping.’

‘Yes, awake, that’s me,’ said Remus, fully aware of the fact that he sounded a bit stupid. His head hurt, a little bit.

Healer Martin, apparently, took no notice of his stupidity, and merely stepped into the room. She studied the parchment that materialised in front of her with interest, and seemed neither satisfied nor completely unsatisfied by what she found there. She made her way over to the bed, an inscrutable look on her face, and pulled out her wand only to tap it firmly against the side of his head.

Remus winced at the sharp knock of wood against his skin, but put effort into keeping perfectly still as Martin leaned closer, examining him with unsaid spells, which pulsed out of her wand and touched his temple, comfortingly soft as they pushed past the skin. Remus felt one of them rush in a blaze of blue behind his eyelids, which he’d closed without realising. The feeling was slightly uncomfortable.

To distract himself, he thought blindly of a holiday he had taken once with Valerie, to a small coastal town in Cornwall. They had spent most of the day at the beach, and while Valerie had opted to remain sitting by the shore, reading quietly on a soft blanket, he had chosen to swim. He remembered the roar of salty water in his ears, deafening the surrounding sounds as his head was comfortably leaned back to face the sky, his body floating on the surface. He could picture the sky, formidable and vividly bright, like the Yorkshire sky at his grandparents’ house in the country.

From there, he was suddenly in Yorkshire, at his grandparents' house, walking through its magnificent back garden, feeling the softness of the hydrangea petals under his wandering fingers, and smelling the heady scent of his grandfather’s pipe tobacco. Remus met his grandfather in the sitting room, then, and saw, as he had back then, his grandfather’s formidable bear-sized hand banging on the grand piano to emphasise a point in an argument they were having. The impact of his closed fist on the keys produced a discordant, shrill rush of sounds, and the whiskey he had been nursing splashed over the rim of his glass.

‘Remus?’ came Sirius’s pleading voice, from very far off, and the form of Remus’s grandfather faded back into the shadows of his mind when Remus opened his eyes. Slowly, he followed the sound to the corner of the room, where Sirius was stood, leaning against the wall.

The light outside of his window had faded to a dark, inky shade of black. The stars and the soft light of his hospital room were casting an odd, distorted shadow over Sirius’s face, which Remus couldn’t see.

‘Sirius?’ he asked, sleepily, and then Sirius pulled himself away from the wall and stepped closer to Remus’s bed, into the light.

A horrible, nauseous feeling dropped into Remus’s body, seeping into his stomach. It seemed like all the injuries Sirius had suffered over the years had taken hold of his body all at once. He was cradling his right arm within his left, and his movements were slow and looked excruciatingly painful, his broken, bare feet making splintery, bone-chilling sounds as they met the floor. These were injuries Sirius had sustained as a child, under Healer Wilkes’s care.

Remus was horrified, and tried to move, but found that he was rooted to the spot, and couldn’t do anything except watch Sirius’s terrifyingly slow journey towards him.

Sirius’s breathing was ragged and blood was gushing from his mouth in great, sickening bursts, soaking through his shirt. The burn marks the silver polish had left were covering his lips and even though it shouldn’t have been physically possible for him to speak, Remus could hear his words as clearly as if he had been uninjured.

‘Why didn’t you help me, Remus? Why didn’t you tell anyone? I was just a child. It doesn’t really seem fitting to let them keep punishing me because you’re too much of a coward to risk your job, does it?’

The walls of the room pulsed, the whole room thumping with Sirius’s deafening heartbeat. Sirius kept coming closer and closer, blood spilling and dripping and steadily soaking the floor, staining the walls red. Remus didn’t know what to say, didn’t know how Sirius knew what had been going on in his mind, didn’t know where his wand was, didn’t know what was happening, what was going on; his mind couldn’t make sense of anything. Was any of this for real or not?

Sirius’s grey eyes were almost unseeing, and the flesh of his right leg was burning away, slowly, revealing more of the layers underneath with his every step towards the bed. His head was tilted to the side, which he had sometimes done when Remus had been speaking to him, but it was ill-fitting in the current situation. When Sirius finally reached the bed, Remus could only say sorry until his throat was raw and the words came out as a stuttering, gasping rush of sounds.

Sirius laughed at him, that same laugh he had come out with after Remus had kissed him on New Year’s Eve, and it sounded all wrong for this moment, misplaced and out of context.

‘Sorry isn’t enough anymore. Don’t think my blood isn’t on your hands, too,’ whispered Sirius’s voice, his broken face taking up Remus’s entire view, and his blood covered Remus, soaking through his sheets –

With a startling, terrified gasp, Remus sat straight up in his hospital bed.

‘Hey, you’re awake!’ came Sirius’s voice, and Remus drew in a sharp breath, whipping his head around to face a perfectly all right and unbroken Sirius, who had just come into his room. He looked happy to see him.

‘Fuck,’ Remus said, falling back on the pillows, his breath still coming out in stuttering gasps. He closed his eyes.

‘If you’re offering,’ said Sirius, with that same warm laugh as he’d had in the dream, and Remus saw Sirius’s face loom in front of him, broken and bruised and bleeding. It made him feel sick.

‘Are you all right?’ said Sirius, and he was suddenly very close, his tone soft.

Remus opened his eyes and looked at him, trying to force down the nausea. ‘What happened?’

‘Martin put you in some sort of trance,’ Sirius shrugged. ‘Something about making sure they were healing the layers of your mind that might’ve been damaged during the procedure. It sounded really complicated. You’ve been out for a while.’

A dream. His mind had given him a dream, made up out of his fears and emotions and things he had always left unsaid. Remus was tired, breathless, but he knew that he had to do this now, or he would never.  

‘Listen,’ said Remus, and it came out far more urgently than he meant it, but Sirius was looking at him with soft grey eyes and all Remus could see was the blood, which seemed to be there one minute and then gone the next, blinking in and out of existence. ‘I’m sorry.’

‘Sorry for what?’ Sirius said, sounding genuinely surprised. ‘Sleeping? You know some people do that after they’ve just had their brains mended –’

‘Listen to me,’ Remus said, grabbing his hand and pulling him close, his tone urgent and desperate. Sirius’s face was covered in blood one moment, and then completely free of it in the next one. Remus was sure he was going absolutely mad. ‘I should’ve helped you. I should’ve kept you away from your parents and gotten you to the Ministry and testified and given them my memories – but I justified it to myself and said that you didn’t need me interfering and you didn’t want me to report anything and I stopped asking and you were just a  _child_ , I’m – I’m so  _sorry_.’

Sirius was quiet, looking at him with a kind of puzzled frown.

‘It was my job to make sure you didn’t fall under any harm,’ Remus said, and his voice exploded into the room without him noticing, agitated by Sirius’s silence. He tightened his grip on Sirius’s hand, the bones seemingly broken and bruised one moment, and then perfectly fine in the next. ‘I sent you back to them knowing full well the next time I saw you might not –’

‘Remus, let go of my hand,’ interrupted Sirius quietly, and his tone somehow made Remus deflate and look at him. He dropped Sirius’s hand on the bed, and looked at it, seemingly willing it to stop breaking under his gaze.

‘I don’t know where the hell this is coming from,’ Sirius said, putting a hand on the back of his neck and grabbing the skin there in what seemed like an almost painful gesture. His tone, however, was low and commanding. ‘But you know as well as I do that your suspicions wouldn’t have held up in front of the Wizengamot and you would’ve lost your job. My parents would’ve made sure that you could never work again. And if you had been really, really lucky, my father would’ve paid you a visit and no one, not even the memory of your grandfather, would be able to save you, then,’ he added, and his tone sounded bitter and raw, but Remus knew that every word was true. ‘That’s why I told you to bugger off when you asked me if I was all right. I was trying to protect you.’

Remus opened his mouth to respond, but couldn’t find any words to say, so he closed it again. The words had been unstoppable as haunting images of Sirius’s injuries blurred the lines between reality and the dreamy, filmy pictures in his own mind, but reality was taking over now, and Remus could clearly see the fading daylight streaming into his room, and Sirius’s soft black hair, which fell in front of his eyes. In fact, Sirius looked perfectly fine, if a bit brassed off.

‘Look, let’s just drop it, all right?’ said Sirius, then. ‘I mean, I appreciate it, but this is not really something I want to talk about with you.’

‘Sorry,’ said Remus, and his voice had lost its certainty and booming power, and sounded a bit resentful and lost even to his own ears. But it had maybe been good to get the words out, still, even they had been unplanned and all wrong. He felt himself calm down, his heartrate slowing down, and Sirius was looking calm, too. In fact, during the whole conversation, Sirius had been eerily calm and adult.

‘Prat,’ responded Sirius, but it sounded affectionate, almost. He ran a hand through his hair, a movement that seemed almost unnatural, as if it was copied from someone else. But then, seemingly making up his mind, he flopped down onto the bed and onto Remus, who let out and involuntary grunt at the sudden weight on his stomach. ‘I’d rather we talk of happier things. I was going to invite you to my flat to get all healed up. What do you think?’

Remus stared at him.

Sirius grinned at him, his slow, pureblood anger apparently forgotten as quickly as it had come. ‘Excellent idea, right?’

Remus opened his mouth to say no, but what came out instead was, ‘When did you get a flat?’

Sirius’s grin widened. ‘Last night.’

‘You got a flat last night and now you’re inviting me to stay?’ Remus repeated, incredulously.

‘Yes,’ Sirius said cheerfully, looking up at him with wide, innocent grey eyes. ‘Why, bad idea?’

‘Very bad idea,’ Remus assented, but Sirius’s grin didn’t dim, only increased ten-fold. ‘I mean, you don’t even – know me all that well –’ Remus said, uncertainly.

‘See, that would be the point,’ Sirius said, and he sounded suspiciously patient, like he was talking to someone who was very dim. ‘You could stay with me and get to know me better.’

‘Aren’t you supposed to be in school?’ Remus asked.

‘Details,’ said Sirius, waving his hand dismissively, as if a little thing such as having to attend school on a regular basis wasn’t something that really impressed him.

Remus opened and closed his mouth a couple of times, feeling Sirius look at him with expectation written all over his face. It was incredibly endearing. ‘I can’t,’ Remus said eventually. ‘I’m sorry.’

Sirius blinked, shrugged, and then leaned forward and kissed him.

The kiss lasted for a while, lazy and intense, and then Sirius pulled back, putting his nose into Remus’s neck. ‘Fair enough,’ he said. ‘Would’ve been fun, though.’

‘Yeah,’ said Remus, putting his head on top of Sirius’s. ‘It would’ve.’

* * *

 

‘Well,’ said Healer Martin cheerfully, the next morning. ‘You seem to be in excellent health, Lupin. I’m going to dismiss you from hospital. Here’s a list of potions that will be delivered to your house within the hour,’ she said, shoving a list in his left hand. Remus looked down at it a bit stupidly, his right hand stilling on one of the buttons of his shirt, which he had put on himself with slight effort.

‘Remember, you’re supposed to take them daily,’ Healer Martin reminded him in a commanding voice. ‘Skip one and we don’t know what will happen. The potions will last you a year. You need to come into my office once a month and we’ll check to see if everything’s still going well.’ She stuck out her hand towards him, expectantly.

Remus dithered for a moment, eventually putting the parchment under his arm, and shook her hand with a bit of effort.

‘Thank you for your care, Healer Martin,’ he said.

‘You’re quite welcome, Healer Lupin,’ she said cheerfully. ‘Oh, and you’ve got a visitor.’

She grinned at him and stepped aside and revealed Valerie, who was stood in the doorway, dressed in a set of beautiful, blush-coloured robes, which complimented her light blonde hair and blue eyes perfectly. She did always know how to dress well. Remus smiled at her.

Valerie came into the room and stood aside, leaving the door open so that Healer Martin may step through. Healer Martin winked at him and stepped out of the room.

‘Valerie,’ Remus said. ‘How nice of you to visit.’

‘Darling, it’s so good to see you up and about,’ Valerie said, sitting down on the edge of his bed. ‘I can’t stay very long, I’m afraid.’

Remus, meanwhile, had finished buttoning up his shirt and now looked up at her. ‘Back to New York?’

‘Yes. I’m going to leave you,’ Valerie said, ever-so-direct, her voice smooth and cold like glass.

‘I see,’ said Remus, and wondered why he didn’t quite see this coming. It was so perfectly practical. Classic Valerie – always taking the decisions without him, pulling the reins in the directions she would see fit. It was a quality he would always admire her for.

‘I’ve arranged to have your things sent over to your flat,’ Valerie continued, having seemingly not even registered his response. ‘I’m sure you’ll be happier without me.’

Remus put his hand over hers.

She squeezed his hand, and then looked up at him. ‘If there was ever a man I’d marry, you know it would be you, Remus.’

‘I know,’ Remus told her. ‘Me too.’

She smiled then, enchanting and resilient, and it seemed to Remus that the world stopped for a moment, and he saw then all that was calm and beautiful in her, in their relationship, which he hadn’t always appreciated as much as he probably should’ve had.

So he did what he should’ve done a long time ago. He leaned forward, pressing their lips together in a final, goodbye kiss.

‘I love you, Valerie,’ he said, softly.

She laughed, surprised and genuine and a little bit broken. ‘I love you too, Remus,’ she said, and if her voice sounded a bit tearful, they both ignored it. ‘I’ll see you,’ she added, kissing his forehead, and standing up.

‘Yes,’ said Remus, squeezing her hand and leaning back against the headboard of the bed. ‘See you.’

Just outside the door, Sirius Black took his right hand off the door handle, which had been pushed down under its weight. His fingers trembled slightly when he put them back in his pocket and he just stared at the door for a second or two, during which he could feel his heart shatter, the sound of the splinters falling all around him loud enough he could hear it in his own ears.

He shook his head, making a noise of disgust in the back of his throat that sounded a lot like the one his mother would make whenever he had done something that was not to her liking. He turned on his heel, stomping past a surprised Marlene, who was stood on the stairs. He left  St Mungo’s, intent on never setting eyes on Remus Lupin again.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter turned out a bit differently than I had originally planned, but it was mostly necessary to tie up loose ends. I wanted to thank you all very much for your amazing reviews and kind words ♥


	16. Chapter 16

Valerie left him, the door falling shut behind her with an oddly final-sounding snick. Remus stood for a while, looking at the mauve-toned wood of the door she had left through. It was over, then: four years spent in laughter and in, softly, love. He thought, inexplicably, of Sirius as he pulled on his trousers and fumbled with the clasp of his wristwatch. He looked up when the door opened.

‘All right?’ Marlene asked, catching his eyes.

‘Yes,’ said Remus, and was a bit surprised to find that he was smiling when he added, ‘I’m fine. Valerie’s left me.’

Marlene, who had stepped into the room, looked at him with raised eyebrows. ‘Did she? You sound quite chuffed about it, too.’

Remus stared at her.

‘You do,’ Marlene said, looking at him knowingly. ‘You sound like a weight’s been lifted.’

‘Maybe it has,’ said Remus thoughtfully, shrugging his shoulders. ‘I don’t know. I’m –’

‘You’re going home with me,’ Marlene interrupted smoothly. ‘I’m putting you to bed and you’re not allowed to move for the next couple of weeks.’

Remus groaned. ‘That sounds great,’ he said, sarcastically. He looked around the room once more to make sure he hadn’t left any of his belongings, then pulled on his coat and grabbed his large and awkward Hogwarts trunk.

‘Cheer up,’ Marlene said, with a grin, holding out her arm for him to take in preparation for Apparition. He took it wordlessly, nodding when she exclaimed, ‘Home bound!’

She Apparated them out of St Mungo’s and, a breath later, they appeared in the apartment he would once again share exclusively with her. It was freezing; he could feel the cold of the wooden floor seep into the soles of his feet through his shoes. He put down his trunk and then looked up and saw Alice, who was beaming at him from the sofa. Despite the initial cold, the flat smelled amazingly, comfortingly, like Alice’s shepherd’s pie, which was really one of his favourite things in the world.

He didn’t realise he’d said that out loud until Alice winked at him, getting up from the sofa. ‘Thought you might like some. Welcome home, Remus.’

‘Thank you,’ Remus responded fondly, leaning into the hug she was giving him.

‘And now that Valerie’s gone and dumped him, he’ll need an extra helping,’ said Marlene.

‘Subtle,’ Remus told her, while Alice drew back. Alice gave Marlene a stern glance, which didn’t seem to impress her too much, and then looked back to Remus. ‘Are you all right?’ she asked, a hint of worry in her voice.

‘Yes,’ Remus responded. ‘I’m fine. It wasn’t too unexpected.’

‘No, not too unexpected,’ said Marlene wisely. ‘I mean, Black was probably cheering you on from the corner.’

There was a silence as Remus looked at her, his brows furrowed. ‘What?’

‘Sirius,’ Marlene repeated.  ‘He nearly bowled me over as he left, so I assumed he was in the room with you.’  

Remus opened his mouth to respond, but was interrupted by the sound of the oven, which cheerfully beeped. Alice followed the sound into the kitchen while Remus looked at Marlene, trying to decide if she was having him on. She looked genuine, gazing back at him with impassive eyes. ‘Sirius wasn’t there,’ he said, eventually, carefully almost. ‘I was alone with Valerie.’

‘He seemed to be coming from your room,’ Marlene said. ‘Like I said, he was in a hurry, so I don’t think he saw me.’

Remus frown deepened. ‘Maybe he was there to visit someone else.’

‘Maybe,’ Marlene agreed, reluctantly.

‘Right, who wants something to eat?’ Alice called from the kitchen. The matter was forgotten for the rest of the evening.

Over the next few days, recovery felt slow. Remus had little energy during the day and he was quick to feel tired after even the smallest of physical efforts. Healer Martin came to visit him after two weeks, and explained, calmly, that this was to be expected. It had something to do with the way they’d treated him, trying to prise a dangerous illness away from where it had become entangled with his foremost magical core; his brain. Recovery was going to be a long process. She didn’t know how long it would take exactly for him to return back to normal, but she hastened to assure him it could very well be soon.

In theory, Remus understood. As the days wore on, and January turned into a stormy, chilly February, his understanding gradually gave way to annoyance.

* * *

Remus had no idea what had happened to Sirius in St Mungo’s the day of his release, but he did know that Sirius had not come to visit him once. Logically, he knew it would be hard for Sirius to get away just as his N.E.W.T.s were starting, but for some reason, he still found that he was disappointed. He had looked forward to Sirius’s visits when he had been in hospital, and the last time he’d seen Sirius, Sirius had hinted at nursing him back to health. Maybe Remus’s somewhat abrupt admission of guilt had turned him off? Or maybe he had been hurt over the fact that Remus didn’t want to come stay with him at his new flat? Whatever reason Sirius had, it was keeping him away, and Remus had to try very hard not to be too upset at his absence. He had tried to write to him, once, but the owl had returned with the letter unopened, so Remus had not tried again.

Recovery was slow, but he was getting gradually better. Marlene and Alice had been amazing friends – taking turns watching him during the first few hours of the day, to see if he needed any food or help. In an enthusiastic mood, Marlene had even once suggested she could help him shower, but he’d rejected her offer firmly. These days, he could do most everything without help, even if he did get quite tired. His magic, sadly, was still rudimentary, even if he practised it daily.

When he woke up on an early March morning, two months after his operation and a few days before Easter, he found Alice sitting by his bed. It was Saturday, which meant it was her day off. When she noticed he was awake, she greeted him with a cheerful ‘Good morning!’ Remus responded in kind, a bit groggily as he sat up and tried to shake the sleep away.

‘Would you like anything?’ Alice asked him. ‘I made breakfast.’

Indeed, Remus could smell eggs and sausages and freshly brewed coffee. His stomach gave an unpleasant churn. ‘Maybe later. Thanks.’

Alice peered at him from over her sewing. She’d always been extremely deft with a needle, and had hand-sewn most of the pillows in their flat. Concluding that, apparently, Remus was only just tired, she smiled, and said, ‘I was wondering if you felt up for a little trip today.’

Alice served on several committees, and knew everyone who was anyone in the wizarding world. Since Remus had been ill, she had taken to inviting him to go with her on what she would call “a little trip”. Remus suspected it had started as a way to get him to go outside, but it had grown into something they did almost bi-weekly. The trips were varied in length and in purpose. A few weeks ago, Alice had taken him to an art gallery that was doing a showing for charity. Then, she had taken him to Bath, on a trip to an old house that was being converted into a magical orphanage. And once, memorably, she had taken him to a bakery that was in the running to be the preferred supplier for a high tea that she was hosting. Together, they had sampled an endless amount of sugary, miniature cakes, which were so tiny he could fit two in his hand. Alice’s trips were always a lot of fun, albeit unpredictable.

‘Where to this time?’ Remus asked her, his interest piqued.

Alice smiled mysteriously in response to his question, which did nothing to deter the thrill of adventure Remus felt at her proposition. His sense of adventure was always something that had gone neglected when he was still in school, most times overruled by his Ravenclaw sensibility. Alice, who was a Gryffindor through and through, had never had such scruples.  

Remus looked at her, paused a moment, and then said, ‘Give me five minutes to get dressed.’

The smile Alice gave him in response was beautiful.

* * *

Fifteen minutes later, they were out of the flat. Alice walked at a pace that was brisk, and Remus had no choice but to fall into her step. He had been roped into eating some breakfast, and Alice had even packed him a lunch in her bag, his protests that he was not five years old and she need not treat him as such falling onto deaf ears.

It had been a while since he had been out of the flat, and the air was crisp and wintry. He followed Alice through unfamiliar streets as she crossed Hyde Park. Despite living in London, Remus had never spent a lot of time exploring the city, preferring to sleep or catch up on research on his days off from St Mungo’s. This meant that when Alice took another turn, Remus stopped pretending he knew where he was at all.

Alice kept up a steady stream of light conversation, and he attempted to respond in kind, although he could not help but wonder where they were going. He followed dutifully as Alice ducked into a magnificent stone archway and down a cobbled path, past rows of houses. After a minute or two, she stopped in front of a bright blue door, and rung the bell expectantly.

It only took a few seconds, but then a girl with soft, wavy auburn hair opened the door. She smiled broadly when she saw Alice, obviously recognising her, and then turned to Remus, holding out her hand. Her eyes were stunningly, blindingly green. She was wearing a light grey dress, the sleeves of which were pulled away from her elbows by golden buttons.

‘You must be Remus! I’m Lily Evans. It’s nice to meet you.’

Remus echoed her sentiment as her name locked itself into the back of his mind, almost naggingly. It seemed familiar, but he couldn’t quite put his finger on it. They followed Lily into the house, and she took their coats, hanging them on a stand that was standing in front of the staircase.

Once they had taken off their shoes, Lily showed them into the living room, which was bright and comfortable. They sat down onto a striped sofa, which sagged comfortably under their weight.

‘Tea?’ Lily asked promptly, who had remained standing.

‘Oh, yes, please,’ said Alice.

Remus realised some response was expected of him, too, when they both looked at him. ‘Er, yeah, tea would be fine,’ he said, clearing his throat.

As Lily left to go into the kitchen, he looked around. The house was airy and light, although obviously old; most of the furniture was outdated. The room was dominated by a white stone fireplace, the mantle of which was decorated with ornate, silver pictures and two crystal vases, which were filled with white hyacinths and springy yellow crocuses. Compared to the decor, Lily seemed exceedingly modern, and Remus wondered if this was her house.

At that moment, Lily returned from the kitchen with a tray filled with a basket of freshly baked scones and stone jars filled with strawberry jam and clotted cream. ‘It’s quite a walk,’ Lily said, ‘and I thought you might like something warm.’ There was something Northern in her accent, a touch of Mancunian, although it wasn’t overtly present. Remus wondered if she had made a conscious effort to stamp it out, or if it had happened naturally, wearing out over time.

In minutes, both Remus and Alice were outfitted with cups of steaming hot tea and a scone each, Remus’s being almost smothered in clotted cream. It tasted wonderfully and Remus wondered if she had baked them herself.

‘We’re here because Lily has been thinking of becoming a Healer,’ said Alice, interrupting his thoughts.

‘Really?’ As he put down his scone and swallowed the sip of tea that had been in his mouth, Remus studied her. She was sat in one of the cream-coloured chairs opposite the sofa, the fabric of her dress coming to just above her knees, exposing long, shapely legs. She couldn’t have been more than sixteen.

‘Yes,’ Lily said in response, that same broad smile she’d shown him at the door present on her face. There was something compelling in her smile, an element of warmth that made Remus feel very comfortable, for some silly reason. ‘I’m in my final year at Hogwarts and I’m just not sure what to do with myself. So I thought becoming a Healer might be a good idea.’

‘It’s certainly one of your options,’ Alice said kindly.

* * *

As time went on, Remus began to realise that it was not a conversation for which it was imperative that he was present, although being of a higher rank than Alice, he could sometimes answer the more technical questions. Despite this, he found that he enjoyed himself. Lily Evans was a bright girl, and showed an aptitude for Potions in the field that even surpassed Alice’s. Remus had just reached over to the tray on the table to grab another piece of shortbread, when the front door of the house opened.

‘Evans!’ came a cheerful voice Remus couldn’t quite place, as the door banged shut. The greeting was followed by an awful amount of racket as someone took off their coat and bumped into what sounded like every piece of furniture stood in the hallway. ‘I’m home! Are there still some scones left? Because you know how –’

There was a pause, and then James Potter appeared in the doorway of the living room, cheeks pink from the cold. His hair was sticking up oddly in the back. ‘Oh, hello, I didn’t know you’d invited Alice and –’

The rest of the sentence died in his throat when his hazel eyes landed on Remus. There was a comical pause during which Remus tried to tell himself that Disapparating out of Lily Evans and James Potter’s living room was incredibly impolite, while James Potter looked like he was trying very hard not to make something explode.

‘Alice is here,’ said Lily, with that same smile. Remus saw for the first time that there was a touch of mischief to it, hidden just in the upper corner of her lip. He wondered, then, how much he had been had by Alice, who couldn’t look any less smug if she tried.

Then, inevitably, there sounded a familiar voice. ‘All right, you’ve gone really quiet, Prongs, so either she’s already given away all the scones or you’re eating the last one, so I’m coming in!’

And Sirius Black entered the living room. His hands, which had been busy untying the red scarf from around his neck, froze in the air and his mouth fell open as his eyes glanced from James, to Lily, to Alice, and finally, inevitably, to Remus.

Remus, meanwhile, felt his cheeks burn softly as he hastily got up from his seat, the shortbread falling down onto the plush, ornate carpet. ‘Hi,’ he said, eventually, unable to suppress the shy, happy smile that broke out on his face.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's been a while since I updated, mostly because of life and how it has unfolded over the last two months; I am sorry for the wait.  
> About this chapter: I rewrote it four different times until I eventually settled for this version. I do hope you like it.  
> As always, thank you all for your lovely, kind words of support.


	17. Chapter 17

There was, all at once, a scurry of activity as Alice and Lily offered quick, thin excuses that conveyed that they were leaving the room. Lily somehow managed to coerce Potter into coming along, although if he had been asked about it later, Remus would not be able to repeat what she said that ultimately got him to move, which Potter had seemed very reluctant to do. What he was aware of, instead, was Sirius's stunning grey eyes, and his black hair, which had been cut shorter, and now curled over the shell of his ears. Remus had not seen him in quite some time, and all he could think of was running his hands over Sirius's skin and kissing him until he had no breath left.

Sirius, however, appeared to harbour no such warm feelings toward him. He had recovered from his shock and had closed his mouth, and now had a look of odd detachment on his face, as he unwound the scarf from around his neck and carefully shrugged off his expensive woollen coat, which he then draped over the sofa. He hadn't returned Remus's greeting.

Remus hesitated, for a moment unsure, but then asked, 'How are you?'

Sirius looked at him directly, then, and there was something in his eyes that had changed, that had become different, from the last time they had seen each other. He seemed eerily calm and collected and his voice, when he addressed Remus, was void of any kind of emotion except politeness. 'I'm fine, thank you.'

He left no room for a response from Remus; it was as if one was simply not welcome. Remus, who was starting to feel a bit confused by the whole thing, nonetheless soldiered on. 'That's good, then. How're things at school? You're in London for Easter break?' he asked.

He wanted to ask many more questions – like ask how Sirius felt about Lily and James, who had obviously become a couple; about how things were with Peter, who didn't appear to be here; about Sirius's flat, which he didn't appear to be currently occupying; and about this house, which was grand and old and smelled, faintly, of cigar smoke. Remus felt, for some reason, that it matched Sirius more than it matched Lily Evans.

After a bit of a pause, Sirius snorted, looking at Remus as he ran a hand through his hair. 'Really?' was all he said in response. His voice was cold, accusing, laced faintly with an emotion that sounded like hurt.

Remus blinked, feeling chastised, although he didn't know what, exactly, for. He was aware, however, of the stark contrast in their voices: his, laced with warmth and affection, and Sirius's, cold, as if it had been steeped in ice water. It left him feeling oddly vulnerable. 'What's wrong?' Remus asked, eventually, softly.

Sirius looked at him as if he was being incredibly stupid on purpose. 'You know what? Just get _out_ of my house, Lupin,' he said, and his voice was low and dark and pureblood and distant.

Remus blanched, surprise filling him. The feeling quickly gave way to anger, which seeped explosively down into his stomach and coiled there, low and dangerous. He looked at Sirius with narrowed eyes and then pulled his wand out of his sleeve, summoning his coat from the hallway. It dutifully zoomed out of the hallway and past Sirius, who had to duck to avoid being hit by Remus's knitted scarf, which had been stuffed into the sleeve and was almost falling out.

Remus shrugged on his coat, put on his scarf, and then turned to face Sirius, fully dressed. Even though all of him was _screaming_ at him not to, he opened his mouth, and said, 'I don't know what's going on that's got you in such a strop, so why don't you come find me when you're done acting like you're two.'

Sirius gave him a smile that would not look out of place on Mrs Black's face, and said, 'I don't think I will, thank you.' His voice made the hairs on Remus's arms stand on end.

He kept quiet, because this was somehow over and he had _no_ idea what had happened, but he'd be damned if he'd let a petulant seventeen-year-old make him feel like this was his fault. But he also knew that his cheeks were burning and that his fists were clenched and that he was starting to feel light-headed, like the breath had been knocked out of him. He knew he didn't look, at all, as much in control as he would've liked to appear. Additionally, the Summoning Charm was the first proper spell he had done since he was out of the hospital, and it had left him feeling drained. The movement had been done too impulsively and the magic had been far too concentrated.

Sirius had stopped paying attention to him entirely, and had sat down on the sofa instead, reading a newspaper, which he had produced seemingly out of nowhere.

Remus, who still had no idea what was going on, felt humiliation wash over him. For just a seventeen-year-old, Sirius was surprisingly adept at making someone like him feel like shit. He hesitated for a small moment, wanting to perhaps say something else, perhaps goodbye, although that would hardly encompass everything they had experienced together, in all those years. At that moment, Sirius turned the page, eating a piece of shortbread and spilling crumbs everywhere, seemingly without a care in the world.

Remus had had enough. He calmly walked past the sofa, taking care to knock into Sirius's legs, hard, as he made his way to the door. He heard a muffled yelp behind him, but he ignored it, wrenching open the painted front door.

Sirius shouted something after him, but Remus couldn't exactly hear. He paused for a breath, to see if Sirius would add something, but the stupidly large house remained oddly quiet, so Remus instead slammed the door shut behind him with such brutish, magical force, one of the glass panes shattered. Without a moment's hesitation, he stormed into a nearby alleyway, and Disapparated.

Alice and Marlene at the apartment when he Apparated directly into the living room. They were sitting comfortably on the sofa, covered by a knitted grey blanket of Alice's own making, sipping mugs of steaming hot coffee. The conversation they had been engaged in stopped immediately, and they both turned to look at him, Alice's face hopeful. She took one look at his appearance, however, and her face fell.

'Are you all right?' Alice asked, setting her mug down on the coffee table in front of her.

'Perfect,' Remus said, shrugging off his coat and tossing it towards the coat rack in the corner with very little aim. It landed on the floor. 'I'm absolutely perfect.'

'You look it,' said Marlene, who had followed the progression of his coat, and was now looking at him, one eyebrow raised. Alice, meanwhile, had gone into the kitchen and had now returned, bearing a full mug of tea, which Remus always preferred to coffee.

Remus ran a hand through his hair, falling down into one of the armchairs by the fire, and taking Alice's proffered mug. 'Thanks,' he said.

'Remus,' she said softly, sitting down on the arm of the chair. 'I'm very sorry, I thought that –'

'That's all right,' Remus interrupted, somehow managing a smile as he patting her knee. 'Thank you. I really don't want to talk about it, though.'

'Fair enough,' said Marlene. 'I'll tell you about my break-up with Martin, instead.'

Remus stared.

'I caught her shagging Rodgers,' Marlene said airily. 'So I hexed her. And then him.'

'Sorry,' Remus said, still a bit shocked.

'Don't be,' Marlene said, grinning. 'You know how good my hexes are.'

Remus laughed. 'Yeah, they are.'

* * *

Weeks passed, and Remus slowly recovered, and eventually went back to work in early April. He thought of Sirius, about how the way things had ended, more than he wanted to. He was still surprised at how their last meeting had gone, and could still not think of a reason Sirius would be so incredibly upset with him, but he never allowed himself to dwell on it for too long. Sirius, for some reason, wanted absolutely nothing to do with him, so who was he to protest? If he wanted absolutely nothing to do with Remus, then Remus wanted absolutely nothing to do with him. It was that simple.

It was a strange ability he had always had, ever since he was a child: he was able to shut someone out completely, if they had hurt him. One of his grandfather's favourite stories about Remus had been that time he had ignored a fellow wizard's persistent invites to a birthday party, after he had overheard the boy saying that Remus's mother was "common-looking". The boy had been distraught, and had to cancel his party, because Remus had been the main reason why many of his pureblood friends were coming. Looking back, it perhaps hadn't been Remus's proudest moment, but his grandfather had told him then that this meant that he had character, and was worth more than his ridiculous father.

And now, Remus was doing the same thing to Sirius as he had done to Evan Rosier back when he was little: he was shutting him out. Not that Sirius seemed to care, or notice much. He had not attempted to contact Remus since that night, and Remus had seen neither hide nor hair of him or his Gryffindor friends. Alice had apologised to him multiple times, but, as Remus explained to her, she _had_ helped him: she had helped him see that Sirius Black was an utter waste of his time. Alice had seemed unimpressed by his statement, but Remus was unrelenting. 'Really,' he told her, ruffling her hair, 'I should focus on my career for now.'

And he did just that. While his personal life was non-existent, his professional life was flourishing. He had been offered a grant by the Ministry of Magic to continue his studies on Containment Charms on their premises, so twice each week, he travelled to the Ministry of Magic's Charms Department, and worked there alongside the Head of the Department, a beautiful girl called Sabrina Li, who liked him a lot. Alongside his research for the Ministry, Remus fulfilled his duties as a Healer, volunteering for shifts that no one else wanted, which often kept him at the hospital for seventy-two hour stretches.

He slept little, and his skin had taken on an ashy tone. But it mattered little: he never felt more alive.

* * *

On a cold, wintry day at the end of November, two years later, his wand vibrated in his pocket. He was in the middle of a conversation with Sabrina, who had suggested he incorporate runes into the experimental Containment Charm he had been working on. Making his apologies to Sabrina, he took it out, and it announced, in a clear voice, 'Presence of Head Healer Lupin required on Ground Floor, Artefact Accidents.'

'Noted,' he told it, and then smiled up at her. 'Excuse me.'

'I'll see you next week, Lupin,' she said, running a hand up his arm.

He grinned at her, mischievously, and then turned on his heel and left, leaving her standing there in the middle of the corridor, staring hopelessly after him, a fact he had purposefully failed to notice for over a year now. He exited the Ministry building, looking up at the clouds. It always made him feel slightly claustrophobic, how winter took the light from the sky and disoriented them all, making the early afternoon feel like ten in the evening. He hummed cheerfully under his breath as he made his way to the hospital, pushing past eager, early Christmas shoppers and scarcely noticing the beautifully decorated winter shop displays.

The two years that had passed since he'd last seen Sirius had been a whirlwind of emotions. He heard from Marlene that James and Lily got married straight out of Hogwarts, and were now living close to Potter's ailing parents in Godric's Hollow. Alice had had a child, an adorable boy she had called Neville, and who showed amazing signs of early magic. Remus loved him like his own, bringing him presents from his travels, reading to him, and once, even disastrously baking with him. While Alice's sturdy Aga had barely survived the onslaught, Neville had loved it, and Remus had, too. Valerie had gotten married and had had a child, and was living with her husband – a rich Spanish wizard, whose family held several stocks in the company that owned the Daily Prophet – in Portugal. She and Remus exchanged Christmas cards each year.

Marlene had found a girlfriend in a stubborn, fiery young girl called Dorcas Meadows, whom she had met when the latter had shown up at St Mungo's with second and third-degree burns. The burns had obviously been given to her by a dragon, but she had refused to elaborate on how she exactly came about them, and Marlene had been intrigued and a little jealous. They had become good friends, and after just sixth months of dating, Marlene had moved into Dorcas's flat, which had only one room and running water only on occasion, but neither seemed to mind very much.

Remus never asked Marlene about Sirius, and she never told him anything purposely, somehow understanding that he wasn't interested in learning much about him. However, Remus did know some things about Sirius, even if most of them had been gleaned wholly by accident. Once, Marlene had shared that Sirius had started training to be a Cursebreaker, something he had appeared remarkably skilled at, much to Marlene's annoyance. Then, in passing, she had mentioned that Sirius had publically broken up with a boy called Something-or-Other Fawley, which had seemed to cause quite a scandal amongst the pureblood community, and had led to Sirius being formally disowned by his family. Finally, Remus knew that his flat in London had become a popular place for parties in the wizarding community; Sirius, and his parties, were frequently in the news.

The cold was bitter, almost, and Remus hunched his shoulders in his winter coat. Within minutes, he had reached the hospital, passing by a brilliant black motorbike parked against a nearby wall. When he stepped through the glass window, he noticed that it was busier than usual, for a normal night. A handful of reporters from the Prophet were gathered near the reception, and were pestering the receptionist with rapid questions. Remus met her eyes, questioningly, but she shook her head imperceptively, and motioned her head towards the hallway to the left of her.

Remus shrugged off his coat, revealing his mauve coloured Head Healer robes, and pushed it, alongside his scarf, into the hands of one his current assistant Healer, who was waiting for him at the top of the stairs and hurried away to stow the coat in Remus's office. His wand lit up when he passed the correct room, and he pushed open the door of one of the most expensive private, out-care patient rooms the hospital had.

Immediately, a roll of parchment appeared, and his second-assistant Healer – who had reappeared at his side – plucked it out of the air, and read it out loud to him.

'Unknown life threatening injuries, suspected Dark magic, twenty-year-old male,' his voice had a keening sound to it, a rush that all second-assistant Healers carried, having just come from training, dying to experience the real world of Healing for themselves. Remus nodded to him, and then turned around to face the bed.

The man's head was leant back against the wall, his white face deathly pale. His cheek was marked by a huge gash, which was bleeding profusely, splattering on his black leather jacket. Something incredibly uncomfortable lurched in Remus's stomach when beautiful grey eyes turned towards him, and met his gaze.

'Should've known,' Sirius said, a cold yet charming smile playing about his lips. 'It's been a while, Lupin.'

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter was a long time coming. I had originally planned to end the story in this chapter, but when I wrote it, the ending felt wrong and unfulfilling. So, instead, I tweaked my original idea slightly, and came out with this chapter, which has my heart, in many ways.
> 
> Thank you for your lovely words and your continuous support ♥


	18. Chapter 18

Remus took a little over a second to recover, surprised at the mixture of feelings that had settled into the middle of his stomach: shock, discomfort, and somewhere, hidden underneath that, joy. That emotion, however, Remus determinedly filed away.

‘Mr Black,’ he said calmly. The words were dusty with disuse, but somehow fit exactly in his mouth, as they had done so many times before. ‘What appears to be the problem?’

Sirius snorted derisively as Remus and his second-assistant Healer approached the bed he was lying on. Remus gestured to his assistant, whom he was pretty sure was called Wingby, and watched the boy fumble through a slew of truly awful diagnostic spells. Remus noted absently that it would probably be prudent to have the boy replaced with someone else before year’s end. He had heard from most of his colleagues that this year’s assistant Healers were turning out to be a pathetic, clumsy bunch. He would bring the matter to the attention of the board in the next meeting; perhaps a review of the application standards were in order, he thought vaguely, as finally the boy got the spell to work on his sixth try.

The diagnostic spell revealed that Sirius was suffering from a magical injury that appeared to run through his very veins; many of the pathways lit up under his blood-smeared clothes. Whatever was affecting him seemed to be concentrated in Sirius’s abdomen, which he was clutching, but his lungs also appeared to be affected. Sirius was shivering, cold sweat forming on his forehead. Wingby looked up at Remus, nonplussed, but Remus narrowed his eyes, alarm bells ringing in his head.

‘Tried that diagnostic spell, didn’t I?’ came an annoyed voice from behind him, and Remus looked around to find Healer Rodgers standing there, leant against the wall. ‘Fat load of good it did. And he’s no help, either,’ he said, gesturing his head towards Sirius.

‘Rodgers,’ Remus said firmly, but calmly.

Rodgers met Remus’s eyes with disdain. He had never quite forgiven Remus for taking what he had believed to be his rightful place as Head Healer of Spell Damage, even though most everyone knew Rodgers would be wildly unsuited for the job. On his part, Remus disliked Rodgers greatly. He had been the reason Marlene and Jo Martin broke things off. And while Martin had taken a job at a hospital in Ireland shortly after the incident, Rodgers had stayed. He didn’t go out of his way to humiliate Remus or his friends, but when they came face to face with each other, he made no effort to hide his dislike. Despite this, Rodgers was a very talented Healer, and was assigned to deal mostly with private, out-care patients. This meant that their paths rarely crossed except, it seemed, in this very case. Rodgers, after all, was the Healer in charge of the Potter account, and Sirius, unfortunately, was part of that account.

Rodgers had obviously been forced to summon Remus to the case, having been unable to solve it by himself. Although he preferred to hide the fact, Rodgers was a half-blood wizard who had grown up, fatherless, in Essex with his Muggle mother. This meant that he knew very little of pureblood customs. And now that Remus was here, Remus had seniority over him.

Rodgers dutifully said no more, although the look on his face was resentful. He stepped closer to the bed, shouldering past poor Wingby to make room for himself. Startled, Wingby dropped the parchment on the floor, and had to duck down to retrieve it. ‘Doesn’t want to tell me what’s happened, but it’s definitely spreading fast,’ Rodgers told Remus, without really looking at him, his arms crossed over his chest.

‘Ah, but Rodgie, that would be _telling_ ,’ Sirius said, in a sing-song voice. ‘If I told you what was wrong, I wouldn’t need you to heal me in the first place, would I now?’

‘You don’t even know what’s wrong, you spoiled little –’ Rodgers said, taking the bait.

‘Rodgers,’ Remus interrupted, his voice carrying a note of warning this time.

Rodgers didn’t finish his sentence, but he was starting to look murderous. Wingby, meanwhile, had retrieved the parchment from the floor, and was looking between the Remus and Rodgers as if he were watching a particularly riveting tennis match. He was annoying. Both of them were being extremely _annoying_. Remus felt a headache prick at the back of his mind, a steady reminder that he hadn’t taken his potion yet this morning. He was forever forgetting to take it in the morning.

‘Rodgers, Wingby, leave,’ Remus instructed.

Wingby’s eyes widened in shock, and he looked like he couldn’t quite believe Remus was sending him away without letting him be a part of such an interesting case. Nonetheless, he handed Remus the parchment, and left the room, barely making a sound. Rodgers, on the other hand, had narrowed his eyes at Remus. When Remus met his gaze, steadily, Rodgers gave a grunt of acknowledgement, or maybe anger, and stomped out of the room, slamming the door shut behind him with a sharp crack.

‘You know, if you wanted me all to yourself, you could’ve just asked,’ Sirius said. It was meant to be a joke, but it fell flat when it was followed by a coughing fit. Sirius shivered, his hands tightening on his abdomen, the colour of his skin almost translucently pale.

Remus sat down by him on the bed, pulling out his own wand and performing the diagnostic spell again, watching as it lit up patches of Sirius’s skin.

‘How long have you been this way?’

‘Not really sure. Two hours, maybe three,’ Sirius said, frowning. His voice was a little raw.

Remus nodded thoughtfully, turning to check Sirius’s heartbeat with his wand. Sirius’s wrist was clammy, and his pulse rapid, but weak. Remus let out a sigh, putting Sirius’s hand back on the bed. ‘Care to tell me why you seem to be suffering from an illegal Pestilence Curse, Mr Black?’ he asked, looking up at him, slightly irritated.

Sirius stared at him for a moment, and then shook his head in disbelief, a bubble of laughter breaking free from his chest. ‘Not a clue,’ he said, but he sounded far from being sincere. ‘Does explain why I feel like utter shit, though,’ he added, as a cough racked through his body.

Remus turned away from him to check the warding on the room, breathing out in relief when the wards shimmered in response. That was good, then. That meant that none of them should be in danger of contracting the Curse, but that didn’t mean things were entirely risk-free. As a precaution, it was perhaps best that they should all be tested before they finished their shifts. He was suddenly glad he had sent away Wingby. The poor boy would’ve probably had a heart attack at the idea that they had a patient who was infected by the plague. Remus was pulled from his thoughts by Sirius, who had begun muttering to himself.

‘A Pestilence Curse, Christ, she’s such a fucking _lunatic_. If she got some on my bike, I’m going to kill her. I should’ve just flown to Bristol, faulty invisibility barrier be damned.’ He turned to Remus. ‘Did you know that Rodgers is an absolute prick? I told him to go fuck himself if he couldn’t figure out what the hell I was suffering from, Merlin knows how much money he gets paid –’

Remus realised that he found Sirius’s language slightly jarring, which probably meant he was getting old. He patiently waited for Sirius, who was still talking about a mile a minute, to finish, but when it appeared that he wasn’t going to do so any time soon, Remus carefully grabbed hold of his face, turning it towards his own.

Sirius froze at his touch, looking at him with wide, feverish eyes.

‘I need you to stop talking, Mr Black,’ Remus told him curtly, raising his wand until it was level with Sirius’s face. ‘I’m trying to remember the counter-curse and you yammering on constantly isn’t helping.’

‘Sorry,’ Sirius said softly. For the first time, it sounded like he meant it.

‘Thank you,’ Remus responded, dropping his hands from Sirius’s face, and trying to rack his brain for the counter-curse.  It had been a very long time since he had needed to rely on his knowledge of dark magic, because the Ministry had really started buckling down on the prevention of it in the last two years. Anyone found guilty of using dark magic would be subjected to heavy fines or, in some cases, even sentenced to Azkaban. This meant that formally, the use of dark magic had declined, and victims were few and far between. In real life, however, this simply meant that most cases didn’t make it to St Mungo’s.

Remus had recognised the symptoms of the Pestilence Curse in Sirius nonetheless, because it remained one of the most favoured Curses amongst purebloods. The Curse worked swiftly, infecting the victim with a magical, more aggressive variant of the plague, and it usually resulted in death, unless the victim was treated within the first six hours of contracting it. The hospital had gone through a spell of the Curses early in Remus’s career, which meant that Remus was probably one of only a handful of Healers in the hospital knew the counter-curse. However, he hadn’t had to use this knowledge in years, and he was currently having a little trouble recalling the proper page of _Moste Darke Magick_ , which contained the necessary information.

Sirius was quiet, studying Remus’s face intently, as if he was trying to read his thoughts. Sirius had changed very little in the last two years, only growing more handsome, as far as that was even possible. His hair was longer, touching his collar, and he had a scruffy three-day beard, something Remus had never seen on him before. Being so close to Sirius, with so many words left unsaid hanging in the air between them, felt odd. Absently, Remus noticed that Sirius’s wrist had a tattoo of the Canis Major constellation on it, Sirius’s namesake star in the middle twinkling in and out of existence with every beat of Sirius’s heart.

‘Clever,’ Remus said, softly, nodding his head at the tattoo.

‘Thanks,’ Sirius responded, his head leant back against the wall, his throat exposed.

Remus tried to shake away the uncomfortable feeling that had settled again into the pit of his stomach, and put his wand to Sirius’s temple. The counter-curse flowed from his lips without too much thought, and immediately, Sirius stopped shivering. Remus performed the diagnostic spell again to check his work, and nodded in satisfaction when he checked Sirius’s pulse, and found that it had steadied.

‘That should stop the Curse from spreading, Mr Black. But I’m going to need you take several potions over the next couple of days. It’ll take a while until we’re able to flush this Curse completely out of your system, and we’ll need to monitor you closely.’

Sirius blinked. ‘I have to stay?’ he asked, emphasising the last word in surprise. ‘I’ve never had to stay before.’

‘We need to make sure that the Curse is fully out of your system before we can allow you to leave the hospital, Mr Black,’ Remus said.

‘You can’t speed up the process?’ Sirius demanded. ‘You were always able to fix me just fine before.’

Remus stood up from the bed. ‘I’m afraid not. This Curse is different.’

‘Great,’ Sirius said, slipping down onto the bed, his head landing neatly in the middle of the pillow, like he had aimed it. ‘That’s just fucking fantastic.’

Remus ignored that. ‘Is there anyone I can contact for you?’

Sirius turned to him, something dark flashing over his face. It was gone a second later. He shook his head. ‘That’s all right,’ he said.

‘You may wish for someone to bring you some clean clothes,’ Remus pressed, pointing to Sirius’s jacket and ripped jeans, which were stained with blood. ‘Our laundry staff can wash what you’re wearing right now. And,’ he added, ‘some company might be nice.’

Sirius looked at him. ‘I’m fine,’ he said, and there was a note in his voice that was a little lost, but at the same time, he sounded firm.

Remus dropped it. ‘I’ll have Wingby deliver a Sleeping Potion for you, Mr Black. Your body will need lots of rest over the next couple of days.’

‘Fine,’ Sirius said. He sighed theatrically, and then reached down into one of the pockets on his leather jacket, searched for something. Whatever it was, he quickly found it, taking it out, and then lobbing it, with very precise aim, straight at Remus.

Remus only had to lift his palms to catch it, feeling the heavy clink of metal against his skin. When he opened his palm, he saw that it was a set of keys. He looked up at Sirius, surprised.

‘Keys to my bike,’ Sirius told him. ‘Park her somewhere safe, would you, I don’t want anything to happen to her.’ He then gave a grin that did stupid, stupid things to Remus’s knees. ‘Cheers.’

Remus nodded absently in response, and left the room.

* * *

The next morning, Remus made his rounds, with Wingby trailing him, as usual. When he arrived back on the ground floor, the only patient he still had to check on was Sirius. Wingby had reported that Sirius had slept through the night and most of the morning with the aid of a Potion for Dreamless Sleep. Arriving at Sirius’s room, Remus knocked once on the door, and after Sirius’s affirmative “Yeah!”, he stepped inside, Wingby on his heels.

‘About bloody time!’ Sirius said, once he spotted the pair of them. He was sitting up in the bed without a shirt, his hair messy with sleep and his scruffy beard making a sharp contrast against his pale skin. Despite this, he looked handsome, almost effortlessly so. ‘I’ve been only waiting all morning. What did you do to her?’ Sirius said.

Remus blinked at Wingby, who shrugged to indicate his own confusion. Remus looked back to Sirius. ‘Pardon, Mr Black?’

‘My bike!’ Sirius all but shouted. ‘What did you do to her?’

Remus wanted to laugh at Sirius’s obvious distress, but felt it may be a bit inappropriate. ‘We had your motorbike stored in our garage, Mr Black. It’s being cleaned and you’ll be able to pick it up after your treatment has finished. You’ll find your garage ticket and your keys in your bedside table. Second-assistant Healer Wingby put them there this morning.’

Sirius looked utterly horrified, gesturing at Wingby with a look of distrust on his face. ‘You let _him_ drive my bike?’

Wingby promptly turned very scarlet and opened his mouth, obviously on the verge of saying something. Remus gently pressed his hand on Wingby’s shoulder, and turned his face to Sirius. ‘Mr Black, I think it’s more important that we focus on the fact that you appear to be doing much better.’

‘Depends on your definition of better, doesn’t it?’ Sirius said darkly. He had reached into the drawer on his nightstand to check for his keys and the ticket, and slammed it shut with more force than necessary when he found them both present. ‘I keep spitting up blood.’

‘That’s only to be expected,’ Remus said calmly, letting go of Wingby’s shoulder, who had stopped shaking. ‘And it will probably continue for a while.’

‘Lovely,’ said Sirius dryly.

Wingby, who was still quite red, made his way over to the bed and performed a set of diagnostic spells. Sirius didn’t protest, simply sitting back against the headboard with a morose look on his face. Wingby performed the spells faultlessly, and when he was done, he looked at Remus. ‘The Curse has stopped spreading, Head Healer Lupin. Do you still wish to administer extra Blood-Replenishing Potions every four hours?’

Remus, who had been studying the parchment that detailed Sirius’s status, nodded. ‘I think that would be helpful, Wingby.’

‘Sir,’ said Wingby, from the bed, ‘Healer Rodgers suggested to me earlier this morning that we need to check Mr Black’s lymph nodes, to see if they need draining.’

‘You’re not coming near anything of mine that needs draining,’ Sirius said, in an annoyed voice.

‘Mr Black, please,’ Remus said patiently. He turned to Wingby, lowering the parchment, and looking at him earnestly. ‘Wingby, if Mr Black’s lymph nodes needed draining, which of the diagnostic spells you have just cast would’ve indicated that?’

‘The second,’ Wingby said, somewhat hesitantly.

Remus nodded. ‘Correct. And why is that?’

‘Because the spell is designed to indicate anything that’s wrong with the patient’s body?’ Wingby guessed.

‘A diagnostic spell that shows you what’s wrong,’ Sirius sneered. ‘You’re an absolute genius, Wingby.’

Wingby looked down at his shoes, the tips of his ears going red.

‘Mr Black, kindly refrain from insulting my staff,’ Remus said, shortly. He turned his attention to Wingby, who met his eyes with some hesitance. ‘Wingby, you’re correct. The second diagnostic spell you just cast would show you if Mr Black’s lymph nodes need draining, because it is meant to light up if anything’s out of the ordinary. But what I was hoping you would add is that the rune Beorc, which you draw with your wand as you are casting the spell, should reveal any signs of deeper infection in the body. I created it, after all, based on that spell. If no part of Mr Black’s body lit up when you used it, his lymph nodes are fine.’

‘Right,’ said second-assistant Healer Wingby, who looked embarrassed. ‘Sorry, Head Healer Lupin.’

‘Don’t apologise, you’re here to learn,’ said Remus, dismissively. ‘But please make sure that Healer Rodgers isn’t preparing to drain Mr Black’s lymph nodes as we speak.’

‘Yes, sir,’ said Wingby, with a small smile. He made his way out of the door, scribbling hastily on the room’s parchment. Remus’s eyes followed him out. Wingby could learn. Perhaps with the right person to steer him, he could become a Healer.

‘Head Healer Lupin? You’ve been promoted, then,’ Sirius said, out of the blue, and Remus turned his head to look back at him.

When their eyes met across the room, it was as if time itself stopped, and in that moment, the years simply fell away. Sirius was seventeen again, sitting on the bed without a shirt on, his smile almost disarming in its brilliance. In that moment, something very strange happened in Remus’s body; something he thought he had locked away and stowed at the back of his mind the moment of Sirius’s departure, seeped back out and roared into life. Suddenly, Remus remembered their laughter, the handful of kisses they had shared, the warmth of Sirius’s body next to his in a small hospital bed. And then, he remembered the way Sirius had looked at him that day in Lily Evans’s house, and the feelings stopped, rather abruptly. Instead, humiliation and anger that he thought he had forgotten flooded him.

‘I was,’ Remus replied, and the words were somehow painful. Now that Sirius’s life wasn’t in any danger, Remus’s focus was shifting. And that was very, very dangerous. He had already burned himself once on the fire that was Sirius Black, and it hadn’t ended well. Perhaps, Remus thought vaguely, it had never ended.

‘That’s good, you deserve it. Glassborow must be happy,’ Sirius added, and it sounded small, and like it cost him a substantial amount of effort to sound polite.

Remus looked at him, surprised for a moment. And then, it suddenly all made an incredible amount of sense. That day at the hospital, the day that Valerie had broken up with him, Sirius had overheard. The details of the conversation were only a vague memory in Remus’s mind, but it would make sense that Sirius had heard something, and had been hurt by it. That must have been why he had nearly bowled over Marlene as he was leaving. Why he had ignored Remus’s letter, and had sent it back, unopened. And that must’ve been why he had been so very cold to Remus when they saw each other again, face to face.

Remus paused, his mind racing. The last two years would never have happened if he had stayed that day, and had perhaps forced Sirius to listen to him. And then, he could’ve been with Sirius. He could’ve had love, and warmth, and someone to look after him in the mornings when his headaches were the worst. They could’ve shared Sirius’s amazing London flat, and they could’ve hosted Sirius’s infamous parties together. Sirius would’ve never dated Something-or-Other Fawley, because he would’ve had Remus. They would’ve had each other.

But, if anything, the way this had gone showed Remus, now clearer than ever, that Sirius was young. He was so much younger than Remus, free to discover the world, and get the most out of life. Remus had had his fill; he had his career, his friends, and his godson Neville. He was all right. He had been burned, but he had survived. And things could’ve been, but they weren’t. And they never would be. It was time to end this, once and for all. Time for his Ravenclaw sensibility to take over, and put his make-believe Gryffindor impulsiveness to rest.

‘She is,’ Remus responded, smiling a smile that he had to do his very best to mean. ‘She is happy.’

‘Good,’ Sirius said, letting out a breath that was slightly shaky around the edges. His face appeared mask-like, but his eyes were blazing, hard, as if they were trying to catch Remus out in his lie, which perhaps had not come out as fast as it had needed to.

Remus looked back impassively, which seemed to satisfy Sirius, and he lay back down. ‘It’s good that she’s happy. I’m going to go sleep.’

Remus nodded, wondering why he felt hollow, and empty. ‘Sleep well, Mr Black.’

‘Thanks, Head Healer Lupin.’

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I can’t believe that we’re almost there. Just one chapter left, guys. Just one chapter left!
> 
> For those wondering, the Pestilence Curse is of my own making; it mimics the symptoms of the septicemic plague, which is one of the three main forms of the plague, although I did take some liberties.
> 
> Sirius’s tattoo is based off an idea I got from a drawing by Tumblr user atalienart, who drew Sirius sleeping under a blanket, with Canis Major embroidered into it. I thought it to be a very suitable tattoo for him.


	19. Chapter 19

‘You utter _lunatic_!’

The angry, female shout burst from the door to Sirius’s Black hospital room, which was open. It echoed within the narrow walls of the Artefact Accident corridor, loud enough to even travel to the reception area. Most of the reporters that had shown up on the day of Sirius’s arrival, eager to snap a picture of his purportedly deathly injuries, had since lost hope, and had moved on to more interesting stories. There was only one reporter left, and he was currently sat in one of the chairs in the Reception area, snoring quietly.

‘After all these years, you should _know_ better –’

Second-assistant Healer Wingby was stood next to Remus in the corridor, quivering. He was a particularly nervy bloke, and Remus thought that he just seemed slightly unsuited for Healer work. Given the chance, Wingby would probably flourish in a department that required absolutely no patient-Healer interaction. Perhaps Remus could have a chat with Arnold down in Filing about the boy.

‘– and we had to learn about you being here from Rodgers, of all people! You could’ve at least told us that you were here –’

Louder than was strictly necessary, Remus cleared his throat, and rapped his knuckles on the door to Sirius’s room. The yelling stopped rather abruptly, and silence fell in the room. Remus took the quiet as a sign that he would not attract any more yelling when he would enter, so he stepped into the room, Wingby on his heels. The parchment detailing Sirius’s current status appeared into thin air, and Wingby took it and studied it carefully, obviously eager for something to do.

Upon inspection of the occupants of the room, Remus could see that the yelling had been coming from Lily Potter. She was standing next to Sirius’s bed with a sour look on her beautiful face, her cheeks coloured almost as dark as her hair in her anger. She had changed very little from the last time that Remus had seen her. She was wearing a sunny, vibrantly yellow sundress this time, and her hair hung messily plaited alongside her ear. What was surprising to Remus was that she had a small child on her hip; the boy had his head tucked into her neck, a pair of miniature glasses balancing dangerously close to the edge of his nose. He had apparently slept through her tirade.

Remus pursed his lips in disapproval. The hospital policy was unclear about allowing children in the rooms of patients, but in this case, Remus felt that it was inappropriate. Despite the magical barrier the room was equipped with, the Pestilence Curse could be deadly for small children. The boy Lily was carrying seemed to be about Neville’s age, although Remus couldn’t be too sure. He opened his mouth to say something, but was interrupted by James Potter, whom Remus had apparently overlooked. He rose from one of the chairs by the window, and put his hand on Lily’s shoulder.

‘Head Healer Lupin,’ James said, and his voice was just off the edge of polite. ‘I heard you stepped in and managed to save Sirius. Thank you.’

‘Just doing my job,’ Remus responded, taking the parchment from Wingby, because the latter was keeping quiet. He quickly scanned the parchment, but found nothing unusual. Confused, he looked back at Wingby, who was looking at James and Lily Potter with his mouth wide open.

This maybe wasn’t too surprising. The Potters had been in the news a lot, lately. Although he had chosen to train as an Auror, James had bought back the Potter Potions company from the investment company that his father had sold it to, and rumour had it that Lily Potter was set to helm the company. Remus, himself, had been aware of this long before it became public knowledge, as Marlene frequently mentioned it. The last time he saw Alice, she confided in him that she had been offered a lucrative position as a researcher in the company, an offer she was seriously considering, because it would allow her to spend more time with Neville.

Remus cleared his throat, and Wingby seemed to realise that he had been staring. He promptly turned very scarlet, and stared down at his shoes. Remus turned his attention back to the Potters. ‘As your Healer, I must inform you that it is risky to have a child be so close to a victim of a Pestilence Curse,’ he said. ‘It is quite contagious.’

‘I’m very much aware,’ said Lily, sounding annoyed. ‘I assure you, I wasn’t informed of this ridiculous plan either.’

‘Sorry,’ said James Potter, somehow managing to sound like he wasn’t sorry at all, while holding up his hands. ‘Couldn’t stop the little blighter from seeing his Uncle Padfoot, could I? I’m not that heartless.’

‘No, you’re an idiot,’ said Lily firmly.

‘You wound me, Evans,’ James said dramatically, his hands folded over his heart.

‘Mr Black,’ said Remus, who was pretending to not hear the exchange, ‘how are you doing this morning?’

Sirius, who was sat back against the pillows, looked at him with disinterest. ‘Fine,’ he said, sounding bored. ‘When can I go home?’

Sirius had asked Remus this question every single day since he had been in hospital, which had been a little over a week. He was quite possibly hoping he could annoy Remus into releasing him, but Remus staunchly refused to be baited. Unlike Healer Rodgers, who had absolutely refused to see Sirius again after two days, because he claimed he had suffered only “verbal abuse” at the boy’s hand.  

‘As I have told you before, you can go home when you are better, Mr Black,’ said Remus, with much more patience than he felt. ‘It seems like the extra blood we have been giving you over the last couple of days has really helped.’

He looked at Wingby, who had appeared to have given up any kind of communication, and was simply standing in the corner of the room, pretending to take notes.

‘That’s good,’ said Lily. She seemed to have calmed down, and was now looking at Remus with sparkling green eyes. She appeared to be ignoring Wingby. ‘So, that means soon, then?’

‘I’m afraid it’s not that simple, Mrs Potter,’ Remus responded. ‘By the time we treated Mr Black, the Curse had already spread through his entire body, causing a lot of damage.’ He paused, giving her a moment to digest this. ‘For now, it’s a matter of waiting. But we are cautiously hopeful. So far, Mr Black seems to be responding well to treatment.’

‘I’m right here, you know,’ Sirius complained.

‘Shut up,’ James told him. For the first time since Remus had known him, his tone wasn’t jovial. It held notes of resentment and anger. ‘I warned you about meeting with your brother. I _told_ you I thought it was stupid. Now look what’s happened. You’re lucky you’re still alive.’

In response, Sirius threw James a nasty look, and made a show of reaching for his wand. Instead of aiming his wand at James, however, Sirius swirled his wand in a motion and conjured a puffy dragon, made of what appeared to be clouds. The boy on Lily’s hip had woken up, and Sirius’s dragon flew up to him and blew thin, sugary smoke in his face, eliciting chirpy, cheerful child giggles as the boy attempted to grab the dragon with his chubby fists. The dragon, with all the athleticism allowed him by Sirius’s wand, danced just out of reach each time.

‘We can’t be absolutely sure, because every case is different,’ Remus continued, as if he hadn’t been interrupted, and couldn’t see the dragon. ‘But if Mr Black’s recovery continues at this pace, it’s likely we’ll dismiss him by the end of the week.’

Sirius looked up at him in surprise. The little boy managed to grab onto the dragon with his tiny fists while he was distracted, and it exploded in a powdery puff of smoke. For a moment, the boy seemed stunned, and then started laughing. Sirius looked back at the boy, a beautiful, slightly besotted smile on his face that Remus had never seen before.

‘Thank you, Head Healer Lupin,’ he said, without looking at him.

‘Yes, thank you,’ Lily offered, sincerely. James ignored him, having taken the boy from Lily and busying himself with cleaning his face with a silk handkerchief.

Remus bowed his head, as was customary for Head Healers, and left the room, his mauve-coloured robes swirling behind him, second-assistant Healer Wingby in tow.

True to Remus’s cautious promise, Sirius’s health continued to improve, and on Sunday morning, Remus declared him fully healed. As Sirius shrugged on his leather jacket, which had been dutifully cleaned by the hospital laundry department, Remus said that it would be better that he still take a handful of potions, just as a precaution. Sirius only gave a curt nod in response, but Remus wasn’t too offended by his silence. Since their conversation about Valerie, Sirius hadn’t spoken to him more than was absolutely necessary.

Strangely, what did bother Remus was that he had decided to pretend that he and Valerie were still together to Sirius. Rationally, Remus knew that it had been the right decision. A relationship with Sirius Black would be one without hope. They were both too stubborn, and Remus was too old for him. But on the other hand, even though he had not seen the boy for two years and had been perfectly content without him, Remus realised that he had begun to miss him, even though he saw him every day. In fact, his short, terse conversations with Sirius were somehow usually the highlight of his day. He knew better than to express this thought to anyone out loud, though.

Not ten minutes later, Sirius Black had left St Mungo’s, the engine of his sleek, black motorcycle roaring loudly as he drove off into the early, misty November morning.

* * *

‘Remus!’ a sharp voice said, accompanied by the sharp rapping of knuckles on the desk in his open.

Remus blearily opened his eyes. His eyelids stuck together on the right side, and he rubbed at his eye with his fist as he raised his head from his desk. He came face to face with an irate-looking Marlene.

It appeared that he had fallen asleep at his desk, yet again. Since Sirius’s arrival at the hospital, it had happened more frequently. At night, Remus got little sleep, pondering about the boy, even though he knew it was an absolutely ridiculous thing to do. And then during the day, he would clear his afternoon schedule, and catch up on sleep. However, now that Sirius had left the hospital, which had happened a week ago today, Remus was sure that things would soon return to normal.

‘Marls?’ Remus yawned hugely, meeting her eyes. He sat up a bit more properly, and tried to focus on her. ‘What’s wrong?’

‘I’ve been given a present,’ Marlene fumed.

‘A present,’ Remus echoed, nodding sleepily.

‘A present for you and Valerie,’ Marlene clarified.

‘A present for me and Valerie,’ Remus repeated. Then, this hit him. ‘What?’

‘Sirius Black – you might remember him, you’ve only been in love with him for fuck knows how long – gave me a present for you and Valerie.’

‘What?’ Remus said again.

‘Sirius gave me something for you and Valerie,’ Marlene said, her voice emphasising every other word. ‘He wanted to thank you for saving his life, so he bought you this.’

She forced a present into Remus’s hands, and he looked down at it, surprised. It was beautifully wrapped in shiny green wrapping paper, which was possibly meant as a nod to Valerie’s Slytherin colours, and it had a handwritten card tucked into the silver bow. Remus folded it open and read “Thank you” in neat, curled handwriting he recognised from the Christmas card Sirius had written him, so long ago. Remus closed the card and put the present aside on his desk, making a note to forward it to Valerie later. ‘Okay,’ he said.

‘Okay?’ Marlene repeated, sounding gobsmacked. ‘What part of this is _okay_ , Remus? Sirius is obviously under the impression that you are still together with Valerie, Merlin knows why, and has taken it upon himself to get you two a present.’

‘So you’ve said,’ Remus stated calmly.

‘Have you gone deaf?’ Marlene said, slamming her palm down on his desk. ‘Sirius –’

‘– has bought me and Valerie a present,’ Remus said, slowly, almost sarcastically. ‘So I heard.’

Marlene looked confused for a moment, but then a look of disbelief crossed her features. ‘You told him that you were still with Valerie.’

‘He asked me if she was happy,’ Remus shrugged. ‘I told him she was.’

‘Remus Lupin,’ Marlene said, sternly. ‘For the last two years, I’ve had to sit and watch you moon over him –’

‘I wasn’t mooning over him,’ Remus interjected.

‘– and for months I’ve been talking to him about you –’ Marlene continued.

‘You _what_?’ Remus said.

‘– and now you’ve gone and told him that you’re still together with your ex-girlfriend whom you haven’t even spoken to in five hundred years!’ Marlene said, ignoring him. ‘Why would you do that?’

But Remus was incredulous, himself. ‘You’ve been talking to him about me? What for?’

‘Remus, you’re my best friend, but you’re an absolute idiot. You’ve been in love with this boy for years,’ Marlene said, holding up a hand to stop him from talking. ‘I know you are. Alice knows. Even _Valerie_ knows. I believe it was the reason she dumped you in the first place.’

‘I –’ said Remus.

‘And I mean, none of us know why you love him, because he’s a shit, but there it is. And he’s in love with you, too. I mean, he pulled me aside at his birthday party last year – drunk off his arse, of course – asking me if your eyes were still as beautiful as they were last time he’d seen them. He wouldn’t do that if he couldn’t care less,’ Marlene said. ‘But he’s too proud to admit that he’s wrong, and you’re too stubborn to admit you’re wrong, and now you’re both pissing me off.’

‘Marls,’ Remus said, who had deflated slightly, but was still irritated. ‘I appreciate this, but it’s –’

‘– pointless?’ Marlene finished for him. She looked at him with such naked disappointment on her face, it stung. She had never, once, looked at him that way.

‘Yeah,’ Remus said softly.

‘Fine,’ Marlene said, raising both her palms at him, in surrender. ‘It’s your life, Remus. Just don’t come crying to me when it remains as empty and as painful as you’ve made it.’ With that, she turned on her heel, and left, leaving him sitting there, speechless and hurt.

* * *

That evening, Remus Apparated directly into the living room of his flat, and scrubbed a hand over his face. As much as he had tried, he had been distracted since his conversation with Marlene. She knew him very, very well, and had somehow been able to puncture right through the constructed cocoon of happiness he had spun for himself. Her words had been ringing in his ears all day. He sighed. He should go and apologise to her tomorrow. She was his best friend, and he couldn’t lose her, too.

After he ate a paltry dinner, consisting of some leftovers he found in the fridge, he sat on the sofa for a while, trying to stop his head from overflowing with treacherous thoughts and feelings he thought he had said goodbye to two years ago. Thoughts of Sirius, of his beautiful smile and his barking laugh and his clever, racy mind, which came out with the worst kind of jokes at the most inopportune of times, filled him, and Remus smiled to himself at the memories.

Then he shook himself. ‘Stop it,’ Remus said out loud, firmly. ‘It’s too late now. You’ll be fine.’

And he would be. He was an expert at putting himself back together; he’d been doing it for years. That was one thing Marlene was probably right about. He hadn’t been himself in a very long time. _But that has nothing to do with Sirius_ , he told himself. He got up from the sofa, putting his plate in the sink, to be washed a later day. He decided that what he needed right now was a long, hot shower, to take his mind off things. Minutes later, he could be found in the bathroom, stripping off the last of his clothes, and stepping into a steaming, hot shower.

When he emerged twenty minutes later and stepped into the living room, he shivered. The heat that had surrounded him in the bathroom fell away the moment his feet met the floor. His arms were covered in goosebumps and Remus winced as he padded across the cold, lifeless floor towards his bedroom, his dirty clothes bundled up in his arms. He was nearly over the threshold, when a voice sounded behind him.

‘You know, your flat looks _exactly_ the same.’

Remus whirled around, surprised, and found Sirius standing by the fireplace, casually leant back against the arm of the chair. ‘It’s weird.’

Remus found that he could form absolutely no response.

Sirius looked more put together than the last time Remus had seen him. His jet-black hair still fell messily into his face, but he had shaved and, for some reason, seemed to have put a lot of effort into his appearance. His shirt was of a red, coppery colour, making his eyes appear very, very grey, and he was wearing smart black trousers. His leather jacket was draped over the sofa, a fact Remus had overlooked, even though he had passed by that same stupid, treacherous sofa just a minute ago.

‘Hi,’ Sirius said.

Remus was suddenly acutely aware of the fact that his wet hair was plastered to his forehead and that he was only wearing a really tiny white towel around his waist. He probably looked like an absolute mess. Not that it mattered to him what he looked like to Sirius, who was giving him a bright, careless grin, looking like butter wouldn’t melt in his mouth.

‘What are you doing here?’ Remus managed, eventually.

‘You lied to me,’ Sirius said, looking straight at him.

Remus blinked.

‘Although, to be fair, you didn’t lie, per se. You merely “very heavily implied something that wasn’t actually factually correct”, to quote Marls,’ Sirius said.

Remus clenched his fist, annoyance flaring, hard, in his stomach at her constant interfering in his life. ‘Look, I –’

‘Did you know,’ Sirius interrupted him, taking a step closer, ‘that I was utterly and completely in love with you? And I mean, _pathetically_ so, to the point where Prongs made so many jokes about you during summer hols that Euphy and Fleam pulled me aside and gave me a stern talking to about practising safe sex?’ Here, Sirius paused and shuddered, but swiftly seemed to regain his footing, stepping closer to Remus. ‘I can’t even remember most of what I was taught in my seventh year because of you. It’s only because I’m so brilliant that I didn’t fail everything.’

‘I –’ Remus said.

‘That day at the hospital, I was going to give you a key to my flat,’ Sirius spoke, raising his voice just slightly, and Remus fell silent. ‘I was going to make some stupid joke about the sheets I’d bought especially for you because you seemed to be so very prim and proper. But then ...’ he tailed off, looking hurt.

‘Look, Sirius, I –’ Remus said.

‘I asked you if Valerie was happy,’ Sirius interrupted him.

‘You did,’ Remus replied.

Sirius seemed surprised, like he hadn’t actually expected Remus to admit it, but Remus wasn’t about to give him the opportunity to speak. However flattering and heart-warming and, also, to a point, utterly terrifying, Sirius’s speech had been, Remus knew he had to say something, so he took his turn. ‘And I told you that she was happy, which is true. I know she is, and I know that it’s mostly because she’s not with me.’

Sirius opened his mouth to say something, but Remus pressed on. ‘I’m not very good at relationships, Sirius. I’m not very good for you. It took me a very long time to realise this, but I’m –’

‘Remus,’ Sirius said simply, stepping closer to him.

It was the first time that Sirius had said his name in nearly three years, and Remus couldn’t think of a reason why his reaction to it was so visceral. Perhaps it had something to do with the fact that Sirius was now stood incredibly close to him, his blazing grey eyes boring into Remus’s. Or perhaps it was simply because it was so familiar, and some part of him that he didn’t even known still existed had missed this, had missed Sirius, had missed _them_.

Sirius took another step towards him, pressing his palms against the plaster, effectively trapping Remus between himself and the wall. When Remus opened his mouth to say something, Sirius leaned forward and kissed him, so hard that their teeth clacked together. The noise of surprise Remus made died at the back of his throat as Sirius kissed him again, running his fingers down Remus’s sides. He eventually tangled them into Remus’s hair, and tugged their faces closer together.

It was both everything Remus had wanted for two years, and nothing like he had expected. Sirius kissed him until Remus had dropped his bundle of dirty clothes on the floor and was kissing him back, his fingers underneath Sirius’s shirt, moving over his hot, warm skin. Sirius kissed the same as he had two years ago, but also differently, and Remus found that he simply couldn’t stop touching him.

Sirius pulled away, then, his hot breath fanning Remus’s neck.

Remus tried, for a moment, to catch his breath. ‘I love you,’ he blurted.

‘What?’ Sirius breathed, his voice low and raspy.

‘Shit,’ Remus said. The words were utterly terrifying to him now that he had spoken them out loud, and there was something in his stomach that felt like terror and uncertainty. Those words had never, in his whole life, felt so raw and true. ‘I mean,’ he added, at Sirius’s amused look, ‘I –’

A large, beautiful smile illuminated Sirius’s face, and he leaned their foreheads together. ‘I know,’ he said, smugly. Remus laughed, the first, genuine laugh he had laughed in a long while, and kissed Sirius again, and again, and again.

* * *

 

**THE END**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading this story. Your thoughtful comments and constant support mean so much to me ♥


End file.
